


Present

by reillyblack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Beta Scott McCall, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Breeding Kink, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Evil Kate Argent, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Pack Politics, Pining, Protective Derek, Puppy Piles, Rimming, Scent Marking, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles does some creepy stalker-like things but it isn't his fault, Top Derek, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Discrimination, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, but no new major warnings, but only sort of, kind of ran away with the plot actually, miscarriage fears, no graphic mpreg, probably also qualifies for, tales of violence against werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 112,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reillyblack/pseuds/reillyblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Note: Part I is a complete, standalone story at 60k, and Part II is the completed (!) sequel)</p><p>When Stiles's best friend Scott presented as a werewolf, it was just the worst. It was front-page news, there were reporters outside his house asking him questions, and people at school stared and kept their distance or interrogated him mercilessly. Worst by far was that it meant Scott had to leave immediately to live with the werewolf pack in the mountains -- which no one knew anything about. Stiles couldn't even visit, so he only got to see Scott once a month when he came back to visit his mom. It sucked. </p><p>A year later, he presents too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Change

Stiles was there when Scott presented. 

Ironically enough, it was in the middle of biology. Their teacher was showing them how Einstein, his pet lizard, sensed the world by sticking his tongue out to taste the chemicals in the air. Stiles looked over at his friend, who was doodling Allison's name absently in his notebook, looked at the stupid lizard that refused to stick its tongue out on command, and then looked back and Scott had grown giant muttonchops and his eyebrows had disappeared. Stiles literally fell back out of his seat because. Shit. It was _scary_. Stiles had heard people talk about what werewolves looked like when they shifted, but he'd always assumed they were spewing bigoted lies because werewolves were different and people didn't like things that were different. 

Scott looked shocked too. He was staring at his claws -- yeah, he'd sprouted _claws_ , for god's sakes -- and his mouth was hanging open in surprise, revealing fangs. Fucking _fangs_. 

Stiles squeaked from his place on the floor. 

Everyone else looked when Stiles fell, but now they were starting to realize why he had. People jumped from their desks, upturning chairs and running away from Scott to the the edges of the room, leaving Scott sitting, confused and dazed and terrifying-looking, in his desk alone. Their teacher was also staring in surprise. The stupid lizard finally stuck its tongue out and no one cared.

Lydia Martin, of course, was the first to speak up. She was one of the few still sitting in their desks. Her voice was calm and level.

"You need to go down to the office, and Mr. Bleecher needs to escort you to make sure you make it safely. Mr. Bleecher?" 

Mr. Bleecher blinked and set the lizard carefully back in his tank, where he skittered away. 

Scott was still looking dazedly at his hands, like he couldn't believe they were his. Stiles swallowed down his fear and stood up because Scott was his best friend and he could do this. 

"I'll come too. Come on, Scott." 

It was only then that Scott shut his gaping mouth and started to gather his things from his desk. Stiles got his things too -- no way was he leaving Scott's side for the rest of the day. Then they walked (Mr. Bleecher a good five feet away from them the whole time) down through the halls to staring students and people squealing in surprise and fear. When they got to the office they also scared the secretary before she called the principal out. 

Their principal was this big, booming black guy beloved by all the students because he could talk to anyone, could make friends with any student. Stiles never loved him more than when he walked out of his office and laughed. 

"Scott McCall, of all my students, _you_ were not the one I expected next at my office with claws out." 

Scott stared blankly, obviously still in shock, and nodded. Stiles clapped him on the back reassuringly. The principal didn't lose his joviality at Scott's lack of a response but merely beckoned them into his office. Stiles knew their principal had been around for at least twelve years, so this wasn't the first time he'd had a student present, though it was the first time since Stiles had been in high school. Stiles was pretty sure the last time was four years ago -- Erica Reyes, who was three years ahead of him. It was in the paper. Scott would probably make the paper too. 

"Stiles, you can come too. I know you two are close and it looks like he could use a friend right now." 

"Thanks." Stiles jolted from where he was standing and staring at the principal's open door. "Yeah, sorry. Just." Stiles stopped himself from talking about how shocked he was. Scott had a right to be dazed. Stiles, on the other hand, needed to get his shit together and focus on Scott. 

"Alright, son." The principal sat down across from them at his big desk. "I know this is quite a shock for you. Margaret, who you just met, is calling your family in and we'll all sit down and talk about this together. In the meantime, you probably have some questions in your mind. You can ask anything, I'll try my best to answer. I'm not a werewolf so I can't answer a lot, but I can help you understand the next steps here." 

Everyone knew the next steps, though. Scott was leaving. He was going to live with the pack in the mountains. He would probably be gone by tomorrow. 

Stiles's heart sunk at the realization that his best friend of almost ten years would be gone just like that. 

Still, there was more to it than that. Scott hesitantly opened his mouth and started to ask things. Did he _have_ to leave? Even though it would be painful to separate from the human world, it would be better for him in the long run to be around a pack. It was in the werewolf's nature. Would he be able to come back and visit? Yes, once or twice a month. Could his mom come with him to live with the pack? No, the werewolves were very strict about human outsiders. It was only on rare occasions that humans could live or even visit the pack territory. Usually it was only allowed if the werewolf was married to a human before they turned, which almost never happened because everyone presented in their early teens, late teens at most. Scott was seventeen, which was late for a werewolf. He had a girlfriend, though, Allison Argent. He would have to say goodbye to her, which Stiles didn't want to see. Scott really loved Allison. 

Stiles sat and listened and occasionally bumped his shoulder against Scott's in sympathy of how much his friend had lost in a mere matter of minutes. 

* * *

He was there at Scott's house waiting with Scott and his bags when the werewolves came to get him. 

They were bigger, more muscled than most humans. They could definitely pass for human if Stiles didn't know who they were, though. One was black with professional-looking clothes,a shaved head, and a perpetually blank expression; the other a little more twitchy, with curly gold hair and large blue eyes. When they turned their heads, Stiles caught a glimpse of the gold overlaying their irises.

Scott had broken up with Allison the night before, and she said it was too painful to see him off in the morning so she was absent. Scott's mom was there ready to argue with them, though, fire in her eyes and her arms crossed over her chest stubbornly. Like hell were they taking her son away. He still had to finish school -- he could transfer to the territory at the end of the year _if_ , and _only if_ , he wanted to.

The werewolves nodded quietly as she yelled at them. Then they asked to speak privately. She huffed, but she let them upstairs. Stiles didn't know what they said to her, but she came down looking deflated, tears rolling down her cheeks. Scott had hung his head while they waited in silence at the bottom of the stairs. Stiles had a feeling he could hear everything they were saying to her since he had the heightened senses that came with being a werewolf.  

Scott gathered his mom up in a tight hug. She clung to his shoulders for a long time. He already looked bigger, somehow stronger than before, especially holding his mother like that. The wolves waited quietly at the door, bags in hand, until she was ready to let go. 

Scott kissed her forehead and told her he'd be back in three months to see her. 

Stiles had tears in his eyes when his friend crushed him in a hug next, tucking his head into Stiles's shoulder. Stiles could feel tears press against his skin too and he knew that this was really goodbye. He would be really alone for the first time since they were kids. 

Stiles hated the wolves as they walked away with Scott's bags, still without showing any emotion, to a nondescript car parked in front of the house on the street. Stiles watched them drive away, not sure what to do next. 

* * *

He started with researching the crap out of werwolves and the conditions that led someone to present. There was frustratingly little about it on the internet. Well, that looked credible. The American Medical Association listed lycanthropy as the result of an epigenetic trigger, which meant that some combination of genes, environment, and lived experience cumulated into the sudden change. Genetically, werewolves were still humans, their genes were just activated in a different way -- their senses were enhanced, their lives longer, their needs slightly different, and their phenomes changed in subtle ways. It was called lycanthropy because the symptoms were reminiscent of wolves, and also because of the hierarchical structure of their culture, which had tiers of alpha, beta, and omega. Mostly, though, it was just a name. He read on wikipedia that werewolves preferred the term "lycanthrope" now since "werewolf" had been so defamed by rumors, xenophobia, and plain old racism. The condition had existed for thousands of years, as had the separation of human and werewolf worlds. 

On the American Public Health Association's website he found more information addressing concerns the public had about lycanthropy. Namely, they assured people that lycanthropy couldn't be "caught" from werewolves, that the werewolves were kept away from human society at their own request and not because they were in any way dangerous or contagious, and that lycanthropy was a completely natural divergence in human biology, not a disease to be cured or prevented. 

Some top results from his google search showed both werewolf rights and anti-werewolf groups, all formed and maintained by humans. The werewolf rights groups were mostly made up of parents who wanted their children back from the packs. The werewolf hate groups were mostly scared humans, nervous about the lack of information on werewolves. They perpetuated nasty stereotypes and claimed widespread government conspiracies like contaminated water that activated the change and the building of a super soldier army in secret. Stiles knew that was bullshit because lycanthropy was a worldwide phenomenon, and the history books named werewolf colonies as far back as human history went. 

Stiles had known all his life that werewolves were famously private, but now that he needed to learn more about them it was a real pain in the ass. There were no pictures of packs, no pictures of how or where they lived, no descriptions of werewolf culture anywhere on the internet -- just rumors on junk websites about beasts that secretly hunted humans and lived like primitives. There were precious few pictures of werewolves in their shifted form and most of his google searches turned up cartoonish werewolf costumes. Even google earth didn't have any of the numerous pack territories scattered throughout the U.S., or in other countries, mapped. 

Stiles could only find pictures of werewolves that worked with the human government to maintain the treaty established hundreds of years ago with the development of the country. Stiles read through it and found that the government agreed to relinquish werewolf-presenting humans to local packs on the condition that they register their biomedical information with the human government and the werewolf pack take full responsibility for the actions and wellbeing of the werewolf and anyone the werewolf might injure. Both governments agreed on visitation rights for werewolves to the human world unless the werewolf was deemed dangerous, in which case a human-werewolf committee would assess the situation together. The werewolves were given their own territory and their own privacy as long as they kept to themselves outside of visitations, weren't implicated in any human attacks, and collaborated with the U.S. government on things like FBI investigations, where their heightened senses were an asset. 

The scariest part of his research was the newspaper articles detailing werewolf attacks, which were extremely rare but sensationalized and politicized to no end. The official government statements cited oversight of the werewolf colony, or sometimes both the human government and the werewolf government, to properly integrate the werewolf into pack life or recognize dangerous individuals immediately after they underwent the change. 

Other than that, Stiles found a few medical journals about werewolf-specific diseases, which, _yuck_ , and a few blogs kept by new werewolves that promised the transition improved with time and that it really was better for them in the packs, even though leaving the human world was rough at first. Most of the blogs tapered off after a few years, abandoned. Stiles combed through them, hungry for information, and found essentially no descriptions of pack life. 

And that was pretty much it.

Stiles fell asleep wondering if his best friend was ok.

* * *

Reporters started circling his house the day after Scott presented. Beacon Hills was small, so it wasn't a lot (just two or three), but Stiles didn't want to talk to them all the same. It was still raw. His dad shooed them off with his sheriff voice, but they found him at school too, and Stiles had to lose them with excuses and shows of irritation. His dad put a detail in front of Melissa's house to make sure they wouldn't pester her. 

Kids at school either wanted to talk to him too much or not at all. It was hard to make friends to fill the void Scott had left in his absence, especially at first when Scott was all anyone wanted to talk about. Stiles eventually gave up and moped for a few weeks by himself until Lydia Martin sat down next to him one day at lunch and started pestering him about calculus class. After that, Stiles sat with her, Allison, Danny, and unfortunately Jackson, and things seemed to brighten up a little. 

* * *

Three months crawled by and Stiles ticked off the days until Scott's first visitation. He went over to visit Scott's mom sometimes, just to chat with her and see how she was doing, how she was adjusting to life without Scott. His dad came with him sometimes and she would cook for them both. They would talk about Scott and try to pretend it wasn't like he had died, but it really was -- none of them had heard anything from Scott since the day the wolves came for him. If he still had his phone, he hadn't, or more likely couldn't, contact them. 

It was a relief to see Scott climb out of the same nondescript car, looking more or less the same as he when he left. He was even smiling, running across the yard to jump into their collective arms. His mom kissed every inch of his head and ushered him inside, stopping to glare as his werewolf escorts from before let themselves in after Scott. 

"Do I get any privacy with my son?" she demanded, hand on her hip as she stared down the two young men who were easily a foot taller than her. 

They looked between themselves, their lips unmoving. Stiles didn't think telepathy was a werewolf trait, but he couldn't be sure, they were so goddamn secretive. 

"Mom, it's ok. It's just that some new werewolves run on their first visitation. I understand." Scott nodded at the two lycanthropes who nodded back. "Can you guys wait in the living room while we have lunch in the kitchen? I think you make them a little... nervous." 

They looked between each other again before turning to settle in on the living room couch. Scott thanked them and pulled everyone into the kitchen, that same carefree grin returning to his face. 

"I missed you guys so much," He dug his nose into Stiles's neck, making Stiles jump in surprise. Scott jerked too at his reaction, looking between Stiles and his neck. "Oh, sorry. It's a scent thing. Wolf thing. I guess I haven't been around humans in a long time." 

"It's cool, buddy." Stiles smiled back, a little nervous. It was the first sign of anything different from him. "You can, uh, smell me if you want." 

Scott grinned back and clapped Stiles on the back. 

"Dude, how's school? Mom, how's the hospital? I want to hear everything about you guys." 

" _You_ want to hear...? Dude, we've heard nothing from you for months. We want to hear all about your life there." 

"Oh." Scott's face fell. He squirmed in his seat, looking between them. "Uh, I can't really do that. Pack life is, well, pack life. I'm not allowed to talk about it." 

"Not allowed...?" Melissa's hands came down hard on the table. Stiles's mouth dropped open too. He'd suspected, but the confirmation made him seriously worried. "I'm your mother. This is your best friend. You can't tell us anything about your life?" 

"No, I can!" Scott hurriedly changed his response. Stiles would too if the look on Melissa's face was directed at him. "Just, nothing specific." At the sight of his mom's eyes bugging out again he quickly amended, "Uh, nothing about lycanthro-- werewolf stuff. I can tell you I have a new teacher, Deaton, who's helping me with the change. I've made some, uh, friends. Mostly, everyone is cool. And even though I missed you guys so much at first, I've really gotten used to it and. And I understand why I had to leave," Scott looked down at his hands, "and why I can't come back."

Melissa's eyes budded with tears and Stiles felt a deep pang in his own chest.

"I mean, _permanently_ come back." Scott looked anxiously between their stricken faces. "But I can visit more often now that I'm through the worst of the change. I can come back every two weeks, even, to visit you mom," Scott said, still speaking quickly, as though that made up for this huge gap between them now. Visiting didn't mean much. Stiles knew that eventually they would grow apart.

Stiles hated it.

"Dude." Stiles lowered his voice. "Would you still be saying you're happy if you didn't have two giant bodyguards out there listening in on everything? Yeah, that's right, I know you can hear me." Stiles threw over his shoulder, irritated.

"Stiles, I can't live with humans anymore." Scott sighed as his shoulders slumped. 

"You're still a _human_ , technically, you're just... different. Don't let them brainwash you into anything."

"I'm different in a way that means I need to be around other people like me. It's not just a want, Stiles -- it's a need," Scott said, looking strained, as though it wasn't something he could describe well in words. "Trust me. It's not just what people say. It's something I can feel in my bones. It's better for me, and it's better for you, if I live with the pack." 

That was all Stiles got out of Scott about the last three months of his life before he turned the conversation definitively back on to them.

* * *

Stiles saw Scott about once a month, sometimes twice, for the next year.

He came for longer and longer periods of time, up from one day to three, by the end of the year. At first he came with two bodyguards, but after six months they started to leave for the visit and come back only to pick him up. By a year, they were dropping him off at the street, not even bothering to come in.  

Stiles really questioned him when it was just the two of them, but Scott's answers were always the same: he was happy with the pack and he needed to live this new life away from them now. 

Even though Stiles had made some new friends, school still really blew without his best friend. Scott said the pack territory didn't even have cell service, so Stiles was stuck without a means of communicating with him except on visitation days and the rare occasion when Scott would be away from the pack territory for... whatever _secret things_ he did with the pack, Stiles had no idea, and would text him randomly. It was usually stuff like "dude, I have a girlfriend" and "look at this crazy lizard I found in the woods" rather than important fucking information like whether he was being brainwashed or made to work as a slave on a farm or all the things Stiles sat up worrying about at night. No, Stiles got _lizard pictures_. And once a baby owl, which Stiles had to admit... was pretty cute. 

Still. In a word, it sucked. 

A little over a year since Scott presented, Stiles was waiting for him on his house steps watching for that grey sedan to drive up and drop him off at the curb. Instead, a black car with tinted windows came down the road and pulled into the McCall's driveway. Stiles perked up. It had been a while since the werewolves had actually come inside the house.

Three werewolves other than Scott stepped out of the car. Stiles recognized the black werewolf who came pretty consistently with Scott at first, but the other two were new. One was a shorter girl with long, curly blond hair that Stiles thought looked familiar, and the other was a seriously hot guy with a major stubble beard and a leather jacket. Stiles jerked into the realization of where he'd seen the other werewolf before: Erica Reyes. He recognized her face from the picture in the paper when they announced that she'd presented as a werewolf.

Stiles rose as his friend came to greet him, pulling him into a hug. The sniffing at his neck was a new but not too uncomfortable addition to their relationship. Stiles did his best to take his friend's changes in stride rather than make a fuss.

"Hey Stiles," Scott said excitedly. Scott was always excited to see him, which felt good. "This is my alpha, Derek." He waggled his eyebrows at Stiles meaningfully, which used to mean _be fucking cool, dude_ back when Stiles used to get in trouble at school. "He's visiting my mom today to answer some of her questions." 

Derek was talking idly with the other two wolves next to the car, probably giving Scott room to say hello. Scott turned and beckoned at the wolves, letting them know it was ok to come through, before stepping past Stiles to open the door to his house with a key.  

Stiles was still trying to remember what very little he'd read about alphas when the smell hit him. It was heady, strong, like he'd opened a bottle of cologne up under his nose. He blinked in surprise, trying to place the scent, and didn't move out of the way fast enough as the werewolves passed him. He ended up bumping shoulders accidentally with Erica. 

Feeling dazed and a little weak, he stumbled down the few steps and looked up at the very sturdy-looking backs of the werewolves as they filed into the house. Scott peeked his head out after he let them in, searching for Stiles with a twinge of annoyance in his face. Then his jaw went slack and his eyes went big and he stared at Stiles. Stiles stared back. Everything sort of itched, and he still felt off-balance from the strong smell the wolves had brought with them. 

"Dude," Scott whispered, his hands gripping the door hard. "You..."

"Scott..." Stiles mumbled. He felt dizzy. He sat down hard on the ground. He looked at his hands as he felt for the ground and-- oh.

Claws. 

"You're a werewolf too?"


	2. The Pack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, werewolf territories are different from Native American reservations, which also exist. I am not a Native person, and I have very limited experience with reservations outside of my job and what I've heard from my Native friends. The descriptions I give of the werewolf territories are not meant to represent Native reservations. There is some historical and aesthetic influence from Native people though, like the buildings built by the founding Native werewolves in this chapter.
> 
> The relationship between the werewolf government and the human government is also much better than the actual U.S. government and the Native American government, which in real life underfunds, historically & continually oppresses, and commits violence against Native people. Werewolves are literally super humans in this AU and have a huge bargaining chip (namely, fear) because of it, so their dealings with the government, even as a minority group, are more balanced. 
> 
> Given the nature of the story, there are unavoidable parallels. Feel free to bring my attention to anything that is harmful to Native people and misrepresented in this fic. I'll do my best to adapt the story and correct inaccuracies.
> 
> If you are interested in learning more about current Native people and culture, which this fic does not represent, the pipeline protest is a great thing for everyone to show support for and learn more about: http://www.democracynow.org/2016/9/4/dakota_access_pipeline_company_attacks_native

The werewolves were all around him. Erica Reyes was kneeling next to him, peering in his eyes, her blond hair sparkling in the sun. Scott was anxiously chewing his nails, fixated on Stiles. 

Stiles couldn't feel his feet. It was weird. 

"Definitely one of us," Erica concluded after looking at each of his eyes. 

"Oh my god," Scott exclaimed, alarmed. "I'm not imagining this?" he asked no one in particular. The werewolf standing next to Derek nudged Scott's shoulder and shook his head slowly. 

Stiles couldn't stop touching his face. He had hair where he'd never had hair before, fangs, only a little bit of eyebrow, and his skull protruded farther out. He accidentally scratched his cheek his new claws. 

He was definitely dreaming. No way had this happened to him too. The odds were... microscopic. The lycanthropy shift happened in one in ten thousand teenagers, and almost never at eighteen, which Stiles had just turned last month. He was much more likely dreaming. 

"What's his name?"

"Stiles." Melissa was staring at him too like he had, well, grown fangs and sprouted hair all over. Stiles started laughing because, yeah, that was accurate.

Scott exchanged a look with the bald werewolf. It was not a good look. He used to exchange that look with Stiles, too. 

"Ok, Stiles. I want you to try to relax. Relax all the muscles in your face. Scrunch your face up really tight and then let it all relax," Erica said, snapping to get his attention back to her. 

"He's laughing. Looks pretty relaxed to me," the werewolf next to Derek commented dryly.

"Not helping, Boyd," Scott scolded.

The bald werewolf, Boyd, shrugged. 

"This isn't real. I'm dreaming," Stiles explained to them. They didn't seem to get the joke. "I can't be a werewolf. Scott is a werewolf. It's statistically improbable. There shouldn't be another werewolf for, like, years. Look, you don't want me, ok? I'm super slow and clumsy. I fall over sometimes trying to tie my own shoe. It's a problem." 

"Stiles, honey?" Melissa pushed gently through Erica to take her place kneeling next to him. "This is real." She bit her lip, her eyes sorrowful. "I'm so sorry, sweety. It's real." 

"Yeah, and you're still shifted, so we should get him inside before anyone notices," Erica noted, looking at Derek. 

"No." Stiles shook his head as he felt strong arms lift him easily from the ground and mostly carry him into the house. The werewolves definitely _felt_ real. "No... I can't... leave. I can't. I'm all my dad has, ok? I can't just leave him and live in the woods with a bunch of strangers who don't let you talk about your fucking _life_ , ok? And follow you around _everywhere_." 

He was dropped onto the couch in the living room. Scott immediately sat next to him, throwing his arm over Stiles's shoulder.

"Stiles, it's going to be ok," Scott reassured him, leaning in close. "I'll help you. I'll be there with you every step. We can even live together." 

"No!" Stiles jumped up, finding his strength again in his resolve. "I'm not leaving my dad." 

Derek, who had said nothing, finally spoke up. 

"You _will_ hurt him if you don't come with us." 

Stiles rounded on the guy, his hands clenching at his sides. That same smell hit him as he stepped closer, not quite as strong, but just as heady. His head swam and he stumbled back. Scott was sitting on the couch, but suddenly he was behind him, catching him as he stumbled. Stiles never saw Scott show his heightened strength or speed since the change, though he knew from the internet that he could now bench press five times more than an olympic weightlifter. The display surprised him enough that Scott had time to maneuver him into sitting on the couch again. 

"Just." Scott glanced guiltily up at the alpha who was watching them carefully. "Give him a second." 

"I'm not leaving," Stiles repeated, more to himself. They could just try to take him. He'd leave his dad over his own dead body. Which, was impossible, so... he wasn't leaving. 

"He's right, Stiles." Scott sighed, talking close to his ear in hushed tones. "It's why I left at first. It's hard to adjust to the new feelings, the new strength, the new smells. You need the stability of the pack to get through it without hurting humans." 

"You're a human," Stiles corrected immediately. "You're still a human. Biologically. You're just--" 

"You have to, Stiles. Even as early as tonight, you'll feel it all start to change, and you'll know. You'll know you have to leave. I knew it too." Scott rubbed a soothing hand down his back. Melissa was sitting next to him, her lower lip wobbling at Scott's words. 

"I'm not leaving him, Scott," Stiles insisted, trying hard not to hear the words Scott was saying because it was too terrible. 

"Think about it... think about it as college. You were about to leave for college, anyway. You would have visited your dad about as often as I visit my mom if you went off to college, right? Maybe even less." 

"This is not _college_. I didn't apply for this and I'm not done in four years. This is life. This is forever. You have no idea how much it sucked for us, the people you left behind." 

Scott recoiled at that, his eyebrows twisting up in hurt. Stiles didn't care. Ok, he cared a little bit, but... he couldn't do that to his dad. 

Stiles wrenched himself up from the couch. He felt like he was suffocating all of a sudden, his breaths coming shorter and shallower. 

"He's panicking," Melissa said, her nurse eyes traveling over him. "Sweety, come sit down."

He felt a hand on his back, soothing, and bodies pressed in from both sides. The smell was calming this time, relaxing his whole body and clearing his head of thoughts. His vision swam and arms caught him again, the arms that belonged to the hand on his back. Strong, secure.

"He's slipping." He heard the words murmured, but he couldn't tell where they were coming from. 

"Oh!" Melissa's voice. He'd known that voice all his life. "Oh, he shifted back!" 

"He's relaxing." Another feminine voice. "It's good that Derek was here. This could have been... much worse." 

"It may be best..." 

Stiles didn't hear the rest of it, the black of his closed eyes drifting into a hazy sleep. 

* * *

When Stiles woke up next, it was to a very unfamiliar sight. He was in... a log cabin? Or something? He was lying in a bed with soft sheets that smelled comforting.

And that wasn't the only thing he could smell. Everything was... so strong. He could smell so many different things and he only recognized a few of them: woods, meat cooking, Scott, maybe a fire. 

Shit. 

Stiles scrambled out of bed, feeling at his face. It felt normal. Still, his sense of smell and... hearing. He could hear through the walls, hear people talking somewhere outside the wall directly facing him, and several people singing farther away to his back. He could faintly hear the patter of footsteps falling outside. 

The room was plain, just a desk with a lamp and a closet built into the wall. He searched his pocket for his phone but found nothing. 

"He's awake." Someone said it from the other side of the wall, muffled-sounding but clear enough for Stiles to make out. 

"Get Deaton," someone else said. Stiles closed his eyes, focusing on the voice. Scott. Scott!

Stiles lurched for the door, throwing it open to find Scott in a larger room that looked like a living room. Erica was sitting on what Stiles had to assume was a wooden couch. It looked comfortable enough, plush cushions lining the inside, but Stiles had never seen a wooden couch before. 

A door with a window that opened to the outside, a green forest with other cabin-like houses, closed just as he entered the room. 

"Scott," Stiles said, panting a little. He'd moved faster than he meant to, and he felt a little strange from it -- like he was vibrating in place. "Where am I? What did you do with me?" 

"We were worried you might hurt your dad." Scott bit his lip, scanning Stiles from head to toe and back. "You reacted badly. Sometimes when new werewolves react to the change like that... people get hurt."

"Scott." Stiles's voice shook. He felt his face itch, rubbed at his nose. "Are you telling me that I'm..." Stiles tore his hands through his hair in frustration as realization dawned. They'd taken him. They'd fucking kidnapped him. He rounded on Scott. "You didn't even let me say goodbye."

"It would have been so much harder on you if you'd hurt him, Stiles," Scott said softly. 

Stiles bit his lip. He was so angry with Scott, angrier than he'd ever been. 

"Yeah, well, fuck you," he spat at Scott. "Fuck all of you," he directed at Erica. "If you don't take me back to see him --"

"Alright, pup." Erica rolled her eyes and stood, cocking one hip out as she tilted her head at him. "Let's get one thing straight: you're _our_ responsibility now. You're not going anywhere until we've deemed you safe, to yourself and to others. Anyone you hurt -- it falls on us. You kill someone? _We're_ in the wrong. So if you want to see him again, you have to show us you can control yourself."

"I would never hurt him.  _You_ just want to control people," Stiles yelled. He'd already built up resentment from watching Scott tip-toe around the past year, but this complete disregard for his feelings really sealed his opinion of the pack. 

"Is that it?" Erica's eyebrows shot up. "Do you even realize you've shifted? That you're digging your claws into your palms? That blood is one of the million things you smell right now?" 

Stiles reeled, jerking his head to look at his hands, which were... bloody, as she said. He didn't feel any pain. He could smell it, though, as one of the many overwhelming smells warring for his attention. Tangy, coppery. 

"Stiles. Please." 

Stiles, shaken by his own body, retreated into the room he'd come from and slammed the door accidentally. It shook in the frame and Stiles worried for a moment that the little window at the top of the door might shatter from the force of it. He stared at his bloody hands and sank back into the bed. 

He sat there trying to take deep breaths and focus on something, anything, in the bombardment of sensations. He didn't know how long he spent just trying to focus his attention and adjust to the smells, the sounds, the new feeling of strength coursing through him. When he opened his eyes again, his hands were healed. So, apparently super healing was also a thing. Great.  

Eventually a knock came at his door. 

Stiles looked up reluctantly. He hated them. He hated Scott for letting them take him without saying goodbye to his dad. 

Most of all, though, he hated that he felt like a stranger in his own body.

Before he could come to a conclusion about how to answer whoever was at his door, it opened. A new werewolf stepped in. He was wearing long robes with intricate, natural-looking patterns, like the waves of the ocean and the branches of trees. Erica and Scott followed behind him, Erica with a slight sneer to her mouth. Scott mostly looked somber and guilty. 

"Hello, Stiles. I'm Deaton. I've heard about you from Scott." 

Scott's teacher. Stiles had heard about him too. Right now he was too angry to acknowledge that, though. He crossed his arms, clutching at the drying blood on his hands, as Deaton dragged the chair from the desk by his bed and sat down in front of him, their knees almost touching. 

"I'm going to ask you a few questions." His voice was soothing, calming, like Stiles was an animal who could strike out. "I know you're angry right now, but it's important that you answer honestly. After you answer, I'm going to teach you how to calm yourself down so you can sleep tonight. Tomorrow, Scott is going to teach you how to control your shift." 

Stiles glared. Scott could go fuck himself, honestly. 

"What do you know about werewolves?" Deaton asked carefully, his eyes boring into Stiles. 

"I know you don't want anyone to know a damn thing about them," Stiles threw back. 

"True." Deaton's mouth quirked with a smile. "What else?" 

"I know him." Stiles jerked his head in the direction of his treacherous friend. "I know it's not a disease I can catch -- it's epigenetic. I know it's very rare to present as a werewolf, one in ten thousand people. Which means I'm..." 

"Improbable, but not impossible," Deaton said what Stiles himself had been thinking. He was very unlikely, but not impossible.

"I know I'm still a human, even if you want to convince me otherwise." 

"I'm not here to convince you of anything," Deaton said calmly. "I'm here to see what you think." 

"I think you're all full of horse shit." 

"Do you hate us?" Deaton asked, his eyes darting intently between Stiles's. "Would you kill us if you could?" 

"What?" Stiles leaned back, surprised by the question. "I-- no." 

"Why not?" Deaton asked easily, crossing his arms over his chest like Stiles. "We took you from your father, who you obviously love very much. You don't want to believe it was for your own good. So why not kill us?" 

"Because you're humans, too," Stiles blurted. "I would never kill someone."

"So we qualify as... someone... to you? Even when I look like this?" Deaton shifted, sprouting hair and fangs the way Stiles had seen Scott do so long ago in biology class. Stiles stared, looking at the changes. His face did that now, too. Holy shit. 

"Of course you do." 

Deaton shifted to normal, sitting back in his chair and surveying Stiles. He put his hands out expectantly and Stiles stared at him until Deaton untangled his arms and started cleaning the blood from his hands with a tissue from his desk. 

"I'm going to teach you how to relax now, Stiles. I want you to try to get some rest tonight. Tomorrow I'll check on you again." 

Stiles huffed, but everything was overwhelming him and he was secretly desperate to learn how to quiet it down. 

Deaton had him lie down and close his eyes. Stiles felt a little like he was being hypnotized. Deaton spoke to him calmly about visualizing the most peaceful memory he had and trying to imagine it in vivid detail, down to the smell.

Stiles could remember falling asleep against his dad as a child, warm and safe. It smelled like their worn couch, their newly washed blankets. The sound of a football game was on in the background. His dad's arm was wrapped around his smaller body, secure. 

"Anytime you feel unsure or overwhelmed, I want you to return to this moment. Safe. Quiet. Calm," Deaton murmured. Stiles took a deep breath. The fog in his head from whatever the werewolves had drugged him with was a dull ache now that felt like tiredness. 

Stiles fell asleep quickly. 

* * *

When he woke up, he could hear birds out in the trees chirping. They seemed unnecessarily loud. The smell of someone cooking was also pretty overpowering. 

His head felt more clear, more alert when he rolled out of bed. Too quickly; he almost fell over as he stood up. Stiles balled his hands in frustration and cursed to himself as he remembered the events of the last day. 

Beleaguered, he checked his closet. A few pairs of his clothes were hanging there, thank god. His current clothes were really starting to reek and irritate his powerful sense of smell. He needed a shower pretty badly.

He exited his room cautiously, looking around for his own pair of bodyguards, Erica and Scott. Scott, he saw, was cooking on what looked like a gas stove in one corner of the main room. Erica wasn't around. He stared at Scott, feeling both the urge to hug and punch him simultaneously. 

Scott swiveled his head around, like he'd known Stiles was there the whole time. Probably did. Footsteps were so goddamn loud now.

"I'm making eggs. Bathroom's through there." Scott nodded at one of the two doors off through the side of the wall the door to his own bedroom was built into. Stiles traveled down a short hallway, looking through two other doors to find bedrooms more decorated than his own. One was unmistakably Scott's from the smell of it. He was pretty sure the other was Erica's. He found the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

The water was objectively cold when he stepped into it, but it didn't bother him. He put a hand on his skin and noticed that his temperature was hot, really hot. Several degrees higher than he was used to. 

He washed quickly, using a bar of soap on his hair since he couldn't find any shampoo or conditioner. It wasn't scented, thank god. He was pretty sure his nose couldn't handle the kinds of soap he usually used on his hair now.  

When he was dressed, he reluctantly wandered back out into the living room. He was starving and Scott, traitor that he was, was making him breakfast. Stiles let Scott pile a mountain of eggs on his plate and sat down at the small table to eat. 

"How are you feeling this morning? You did really well last night. It took me hours to fall asleep the first night here." 

"Well, I was _drugged,_ " Stiles said, pointedly. "Why do you smell different?" he asked instead of answering him. He sniffed again, but it was definitely different, though unmistakably Scott-like. "You smell..." 

"You're picking up on my werewolf pheromones." Scott nodded knowingly. "It's one of the main reasons we have to live with pack. We need the smell of other lycanthropes. It keeps us calm."

"So I'll go crazy if I don't smell you people?" Stiles was definitely incredulous. Sounded like brainwashing to him. 

"Not crazy, probably, it'll just be kind of miserable. I start to feel it on the last day of my visitation when I haven't been around the pack's pheromones for a while -- kind of unsettling, restless. Like there's an itch you can't scratch."

"Seriously?" Stiles still wasn't convinced, but he trusted it more if Scott said he'd felt it himself.

"Remember when you were freaking out two days ago and --"

"Two days? I've been sleeping for _two days_?"

"Yeah," Scott said, apprehensive. 

Stiles glared at him. Scott held his ground. 

"I know you're pissed, Stiles, but you'll understand within a week that you could have seriously hurt your dad completely on accident." 

Stiles rolled his eyes and focused on his eggs, fuming. He didn't like to admit it, but all these changes were... too much. He had an idea already, even if he still felt the werewolves were out of line in depriving him of a goodbye. Scott started talking again like Stiles's reaction didn't bother him. 

"Anyway, when you get overwhelmed or upset like when you changed, the smell of other wolves can be the best way to center yourself. That's why they surrounded you, and it's why you fainted. You won't faint anymore once you get used to how quickly it relaxes you, don't worry. Though you do seem to be, like, super sensitive to it." 

"What do you mean?" Stiles crinkled his nose.

"Well... I've never _personally_ fainted from the smell. But maybe you were also lightheaded from the panic attack or something. Deaton says you'll get used to it and it won't happen anymore."

"Oh, just great. I'm a lightweight for werewolf scent."

Scott laughed. Stiles glared.

"Oh, dude, I missed you. I know this sucks right now, but no one else says the shit you say." 

"Shit I say. Thanks. Again. You're great at this whole comforting thing, Scotty." Stiles frowned at him, though he had to admit it was good to hear Scott laugh too.

"We can be roommates, too, Stiles," Scott said, looking excited. "It'll be just like we were planning for college."

" _Stop comparing this to college_." Stiles pointed an angry fork at Scott. Scott laughed at Stiles's threatening fork, too. 

"So, I'm allowed to take you outside today if you're up for it... but... you really need to understand..." Scott chewed his lip. "You're living in the middle of the woods with about fifty other people with super hearing, super smell, and super speed. If you try to run, we're going to catch you, buddy. People here are a lot better at using their bodies than you are right now."

Stiles gaped at him. This was some A-level brainwash bullshit right here.

"You really giving this speech right now?"

"'Fraid so." Scott shrugged, apologetic. "It's for the best. You'll see."

"You know, if people keep telling me that, I'm really going to go crazy." Stiles sighed, scarfing down the rest of his eggs before Scott could say anything else irritating. 

Scott walked, easy and relaxed, next to him as they stepped out into the clean air of the mountains. There were no cars that Stiles could see, only houses that looked like log cabins scattered through the trees, and dirt paths trailing between the houses. Stiles saw one or two people walking along a path within view. The houses were pretty spread out from what Stiles could tell, and some of them looked well-lived in, with developed gardens and little trinkets and decorations. Most of the houses had labels with what Scott told him were last names. Occasionally there was an occupational sign, like "mechanic" or "carpenter" hanging under the name label. 

"So, a few things are different here. There's only about fifty of us in this pack, and most packs cap out at two hundred, so we're pretty small. We're mostly self-sufficient, though we trade with other packs, and we get stuff from the human government and certain companies in return for specialized jobs they have for werewolves. For example, our Alpha and his second both consult on FBI cases, so they're sporadically around. You might be thinking, like, Amish... but it's not like that at all, I promise. We have electronic stuff, and we have access to the internet, we just try not to plug too much into the human world because... honestly, a lot of it doesn't apply to us anymore. Also, I'll level with you, it can kind of suck to see what you can't be a part of anymore, since the human world is so much bigger than the werewolf world. So... not a lot of TVs. That being said, we do have movie nights every Saturday night, and the twins have game consoles and stuff, so we have some of that. I usually get my junk food on visitation with my mom."

Stiles was freaking out because... fifty people? Really? Self-sufficient? Oh man, he really was going to be a slave on a farm. God.

"Oh, here's Jules's garden! This is crazy. Definitely one of the best parts of the pack territory. Jules got her degree in biology so she cultivates some cool stuff in here. And behind her house are some fruit trees that still grow up this high, like apples." 

"What?" Stiles blinked. "You can go to college?" A large greenhouse was built off to the side of one of the houses with a truly beautiful arrangement of flowers growing out front. Scott led him inside, where it was warmer than the rest of the woods. Tomatoes and peppers were growing in abundance, along with a score of other kinds of edible plants. Several warm-weather fruit trees were at varying stages of ripening at the back. 

"Eventually," Scott explained after pointing out all the different vegetables. "You can get your degree, if you want. It can be rough, especially if you have to live away from the pack for long periods of time. I think Jules stayed with another pack near the University where she studied. Some Universities offer special programs for us, too, where we can study some on pack territory and some in the human world. We have someone who works at Google, actually, remotely. They do software programming or something. The electricity bill for her house is something else, but she pays for it since she uses it the most."

"Huh." That wasn't so bad. He didn't know werewolves could work for Google. 

"Werewolf skills are actually in high demand. There's a lot of things we're good at with our heightened senses. We're only limited in that we have to live on pack territory. Most of what you see around here that we don't have is by choice. Cars are pretty useless, unless you're going on visitation or you have a job in the human world, which some of the older werewolves do. We run hotter than humans, so cold water doesn't bother us, which means most of us bathe in the lake. It's like a giant swimming pool, anyway, and it's clean. Sewage is routed to the nearest town and gets paid for as part of our deal with the human government, I'm not sure exactly how. Oh! You can say goodbye to specialized soaps since most of them are way too smelly for us. Plus, it can interfere with your natural pheromones, which are super important." 

"Ok." Stiles was feeling overwhelmed again. The birds were way too loud. Someone was making bacon nearby and it was too strong. Also, he was living in the middle of fucking nowhere, cut off from life as he knew it, and he couldn't leave. "I think I need to go to my happy place again," Stiles muttered, trying for sarcastic even as he slumped down into a crouch and closed his eyes. Scott was crouching next to him in a second, and he was fucking right, that asshole -- the smell of him definitely made Stiles feel better. 

"Dude, you should smell my neck."

"What? No. I'm not doing that." 

"Just try it. I'm serious." 

Stiles glared at him, his head spinning. 

"I fucking hate you." 

He dug his nose into Scott's neck and suddenly his head cleared and his muscles relaxed. 

"Better, right?" Scott laughed. "That's a normal thing for us. You'll see people do it all the time. Even when you're not freaking out, it just feels good, like hugging someone. Though... you don't have to mush your nose against me, dude. Just smelling helps." 

"Sorry." Stiles wiped at his nose as he sat back on his heels, feeling refreshed. "Ok, that's freaky. I'm freaked out." 

"Understandably." Scott nodded in his good-natured way. "Let's keep going." 

Stiles stood, no longer unsteady, and followed Scott down another dirt path. 

"We share a lot of stuff. Hopefully you'll start to think of the pack as a giant family with time. We eat meals together every Friday -- there's going to be a special one this Friday since you came, to introduce you to everyone. Currency's a little different. We use human money sometimes, especially for human stuff, but it's more common to barter goods between pack members since some pack members have human jobs and some have pack jobs. Everyone helps everyone else out. Disputes, which are pretty rare, are settled by Derek." 

"You realize I haven't heard you talk this much in a year?" Stiles grumbled at him.

"Yeah." Scott wilted a little. "There's good reasons for that. But that will be for another day. Deaton, the alpha, and the pack elders will explain that to you." 

"Great." Stiles sighed. "Just great. Ok, what the fuck is this alpha business about?"

"Oh." Scott perked up a little. "That's a totally lycanthrope thing. That's where we get our name from, and all the wolf terms, actually. Alphas are leaders of the pack. They have extremely heightened senses, more than most werewolves. Derek can, like, smell when I'm upset without even looking at me. It's bizarre. And you should see him on pack runs -- he's always way in the front. Super fast, dude. I'm telling you. And he smells... like, so relaxing. That's how he solves so many problems. His pheromones are the best." Scott coughed as Stiles lifted his eyebrows. "Anyway, most alphas do what Derek does, which is work with the human government to catch criminals. It sucks that he's not around a lot, but when he is here, he can fix so many things." 

"Ok. So, it's random who becomes alpha?" 

Scott shook his head, looking at his feet. 

"Most alphas are born werewolves, with two werewolf parents. The alpha trait tends to run in families that have the best odds of reproducing." 

"Werewolves can reproduce? I thought they all..." 

"Yeah, me too, until I came here. Turns out it's pretty rare, but we can. There are a few kids here, actually -- they usually sleep in the pack pile so you'll probably meet them soon."

"The what?" Stiles stopped walking to stare at his friend. Scott grinned like he was embarrassed. 

"The pack pile; it's in the Main House. It's this big bed with a bunch of cushions and blankets. The babies always sleep there since they don't like to sleep alone, and anyone can sleep there who wants. I go sometimes when I'm feeling really lonely. It's just filled with pack pheromones, and you'll usually find at least five people there on one night. A lot of couples sleep alone in their houses, but older people, new people, young people, the babies -- they all usually sleep there. When couples have fights, too, you can find them there sleeping next to other pack members. There's enough space for the whole pack. We all sleep there together sometimes after a big run, or on movie nights." 

"Pack pile." Stiles wet his lips. Definitely the most bizarre thing he'd heard of since getting here. "Alright. Yeah, ok. That sounds..." 

"Totally weird, I know." Scott laughed. "I was really skeptical. But sometimes, especially when I first got here, I would wake up just craving pack. At first I really resisted, but getting back to sleep was miserable. Eventually I just went to look, but, dude it smells amazing. You get to sleep in seconds, I swear." 

"Ok, anything else I should know about? Giant orgies every full moon?" Stiles asked, exasperated. Scott jumped like Stiles had shocked him. 

" _Never_ have sex in the pack piles. _The babies sleep there_. Also, everyone would be able to smell it. That's why we have our own beds for privacy." Scott looked scandalized. It flared Stiles's own sense of being violated.

"Oh, you know what _privacy_ is? Really? Because you all just went into my room and grabbed my stuff without asking," Stiles accused.

"I did it, if it makes you feel any better." Scott looked sheepish. Stiles felt vindictively happy to see it.  

"No. No, it does _not_ make me feel better," Stiles growled, pushing past Scott. They were at what Stiles was guessing was the "Main House" because it was massive, like a lodge. The front doors were heavy wood, carved and painted with beautiful forest patterns. It reminded him of Deaton's robe. He pushed the door open, and it swung in slowly. Stiles stepped into a circular room with a high ceiling. Comfortable looking wood chairs and cushions lined the circle in three levels of rings: large, medium, and small. The floor wasn't wood, but some sort of shiny, sparkling stone -- maybe granite.

"This is where we hold pack meetings. It's the oldest building still standing. The room through the doors to the right is the pack pile. Off to the left is where Derek lives, along with --" Scott stopped somewhat abruptly, like he was going to say something else and fell into silence instead. The ceiling was high enough that Scott's voice echoed somewhat. Stiles was too distracted by the bright patterns outlining different circles on the floor to prod Scott over his cut-off sentence. The design told stories about different animals living in the woods. He recognized a bear, a beaver, a crane, and a rabbit. At the center was a wolf, howling, surrounded by other wolves.

"How long has the pack lived here?" Stiles found himself asking. The room felt ancient, well-lived, but he couldn't put a date to it.

"The pack has been here, in some form or another, for hundreds of years, since it was just Native lycanthropes." 

"Holy shit." 

"Yeah. You'll have to talk to Jennifer more about the history of the pack. It's fascinating." 

Because curiosity was Stiles's major weakness, he peeked into the "pack pile" room. It was, indeed, a massive bed, a circular cushion built into the floor. It was almost as big as the meeting room. Blankets were folded in neat piles along the edge of it. An older woman with silver hair was sleeping peacefully in the middle, covered by a blanket. Stiles backed out again before he could wake her up. 

"Happy place," Stiles muttered to himself. "Go to your happy place." 

"Oh, dude, I know what will cheer you up!" Scott exclaimed, clapping him on the back. "Let's go swimming! You're going to love the lake. Swimming's one of my favorite things to do since I became a werewolf." 

Stiles wasn't sure he could love anything right now. 

* * *

Ok, the lake was pretty cool. 

It was cleaner than any other lake Stiles had been to, with pristine water so clear he could see through to the sandy bottom. It wasn't even cold to his newly hot skin. He stripped down to his boxers and waded in without shivering. 

Scott went leaping past him until it was deep enough to dive headfirst, splashing Stiles along the way. He submerged a few seconds and quite a ways away later, whipping his hair out of his face. 

"This is where you'll do your training at first. Deaton brought me down here to teach me to control my strength and speed in the water, which could slow me down. It's actually pretty fun, and it's a great way to learn control without hurting yourself." 

Stiles kicked off, shooting into the water. He felt the drag of the water much more than he had before he presented as lycanthrope. He cut through the water easily, watching the sandy ground pass by quickly. A school of fish swam past in a hurry, surprising him. When he emerged again, he was far from Scott. Scott laughed and waved at him to come back. 

Stiles, despite himself, did have fun. Scott threw him around a little, play fighting, and Stiles was able to test his strength in the water and against Scott. They ended up in a splashing pile of shouting and laughter. Eventually Scott told Stiles they should head back for lunch and to see Deaton. 

Scott seemed happy to walk back in just his wet boxers, his clothes slung under his arm, so Stiles followed suit. Stiles quickly noticed that the few people he saw didn't wear shoes, including Scott, and if they did they were thin and looked like they were made of animal hide. The ground didn't bother his own feet anymore, for whatever reason. Even if he sometimes stepped on something sharp, it healed in a matter of seconds.

They didn't run into anyone on the path. When they got back to their cabin Stiles found a towel to dry his hair while Scott made them sandwiches. 

"Smoked deer. It's good. We made it," Scott said about the mystery meat in their sandwiches. 

"I'm sure we made the bread too," Stiles said somewhat sarcastically. 

"Yeah, Sally's the baker. She's great." Scott bit into his giant sandwich and gestured at Stiles to do the same. It was good. _Damn it_. Scott wasn't kidding when he said they were self-sufficient.

"So, Stiles, people will be friendly to you, but they also don't want to spook you. Everyone acts a little weird at first, so don't be embarrassed if you're not feeling up to talking or something. People can be pretty understanding about new lycanthropes." Scott swallowed the mouthful of sandwich he'd been talking around, his expression tweaking with concern. "But, don't, like, punch anyone or steal stuff or something. There's a limit, you know? People will still get pissed if you act too crazy. That being said, most people have been through what you're going through so they're pretty nice about it. Except Deucalion -- he's an ass. He's our lawyer, and he's perpetually pissed off about whatever case he's working on. I don't know how Kali stands him."

Scott continued chattering about the different people in the pack, telling him his impressions of them and their occupation as Stiles silently ate his sandwich, still processing the heap of information Scott had dropped on him this morning. 

Afterwards, they went to visit Deaton in what looked like the medical clinic for the town. Deaton was finishing his own lunch, but he welcomed them inside graciously. 

Stiles sat on Deaton's own version of the wood couch while Deaton exchanged pleasantries with them and ate his soup. Stiles thought he was a pretty ok guy, as far as the werewolves he'd met so far went. Afterwards, Deaton examined him by helping him shift back and forth so he could check all his new werewolf gear was working properly. Stiles was getting pretty good at shifting by the time Deaton finished inspecting his werewolf features.

"Scott, have you been by the pens yet?" Deaton asked Scott while he shined a light in Stiles's eyes.

Scott ducked his head. 

"No." 

"Well, the animals aren't going to feed themselves. Go. I'll watch Stiles for a little while, you go do your work." 

Scott waved goodbye to Stiles and looked shamed as he headed for the door. Deaton set the small flashlight down on wooden exam table and straightened. 

"Well, Stiles, everything looks good. There's just one peculiar thing going on that I don't want you to worry too much about. Werewolves have photo luminescent rings around their irises that help them to see in the dark. Most werewolves' rings are golden in color, and the alphas' are red. Yours are, for some reason, silver. This may just be a birthmark of some kind, which some humans get on their irises as well. It may also be an unusual reaction to the change that will shift to gold with time. I'm going to consult with some other pack doctors and get back to you soon, ok?"

"Ok." Stiles nodded. Add silver flashlight eyes to the rapidly extending list of weird shit in his life. Gold or silver, it made no difference to him. "So Scott is the animal guy around here?" 

"He's apprenticing in animal husbandry. It's a very important job. In a small community like this, everyone's job is important." 

"What kind of animals do you have?" 

"Sheep, goats, chickens, pigs, the usual." Deaton shrugged. "I'm going to draw some blood."

"Oh, shit," Stiles cursed as Deaton pressed the needle into his skin without any other warning. "Ow." 

"You won't even need a band-aid anymore." Deaton smiled at him. "Fast healing." 

"Yeah, tons of perks to this werewolf business," Stiles grumbled, flexing his hand. Objectively, he knew that was actually true. At the moment, though, everything just sucked. 

"See? It's already healed up," Deaton pointed out casually as he labeled the vial with Stiles's blood in it. "Now, your school records transferred over today. You were quite a student: A's in almost everything, AP classes." 

Stiles shrugged noncommittally. 

"I'd like you to start thinking about what kind of job you might like here. I want to encourage you to consider mine." 

Stiles blinked at him. His? Really?

"What are you even? Technically." 

"Technically? I'm both a doctor and a veterinarian," Deaton chuckled. "And while I may not look it, I'm getting up there. By the time you'd be ready to replace me I'd likely be ready to step down."

"You went to both medical and veterinary school? Jesus. That sounds like a lot of school." Stiles whistled. He'd always assumed he'd go to college, but he wasn't sure he wanted to do that much. It was comforting to get further confirmation that college was something normal that werewolves did, though. 

"It was a streamlined and combined degree I earned at a pack school. It was a better school experience than most people who get their degrees have since I got to stay on pack territory," Deaton explained. "I think you would be an excellent candidate given your school history. I know it's early, but I hope you'll start to consider the possibility."

 _Got_ to stay on pack territory? Stiles was already plotting his exit points, and college looked like the most promising one. 

"Thanks. I'll think about it," Stiles muttered. He didn't like thinking about himself with a "pack job" anymore than he liked the idea of staying here. Forever. For the rest of his goddamn life. 

Away from his dad. 

"Hey, um. My dad. Is there any way I can contact him? Like call him or email him or something? You guys took my phone, and Scott says there's no service up here, anyway." 

Deaton pressed his lips into a thin line. Stiles didn't think that was a good sign. 

"Unfortunately, the first few months are strictly no contact with the human world." 

"Yeah, but you guys literally stole me from my best friend's house," Stiles argued. "There's got to be exceptions for those kinds of circumstances." 

"Actually, they didn't." Deaton sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms. "I'm certain they met with your father before they brought you here, it's part of procedure. You can talk to Derek about it when he gets back. He would be the one to make that decision. But I have to warn you -- it's very unlikely it will be allowed. The no contact rule is one we almost never break." 

"Why?" Stiles demanded. "Why the fuck do you want to torture people like that?" 

"I'm sorry it's painful. I remember what my first few months were like, too." Deaton looked at him pityingly. "There are many reasons. One of the most important is that you settle in here. The break is easier when it's clean." 

Stiles scoffed, crossing his own arms. 

"So when does Derek get back?" 

"He'll be back for the Friday dinner in your honor." 

"Make sure he pencils me in, then." Stiles slid off the exam table, too angry to continue the conversation. 

  


	3. The Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been really interesting reading about your theories and first impression of the pack. I hope you'll all continue to share your suspicions! I won't respond if I could give something away, but I read and enjoy them all.

The next few days went by in a blur. Stiles learned that he could smell the ingredients in his food, that he could climb a tree in three leaps, and that his hand-eye coordination had vastly improved. He could now definitely make first string in lacrosse. He would eventually be able to listen to people’s heartbeats to tell if people were lying. He wasn’t even remotely capable of that yet, but it was cool to know it was in his arsenal of new abilities. No one really bothered him, and he didn’t feel up to meeting many people yet. He spent a lot of time helping Scott with the animals and swimming in the lake.

Of the few people he met, one of the first was Scott’s new girlfriend, Kira. She was spunky, like Allison, which at first made Stiles sad. Then she cracked a few bold jokes about Scott’s sexual performance and Stiles warmed up to her. When she first met him she stuck her nose right in the crook of his neck in greeting. Stiles jumped back, surprised, and she laughed at him.

“I forgot newbies are so weird about scenting.”

“ _I’m_ weird?”

He also met Sally the baker, who he immediately loved; she kept a plate of cookies out on her front step for any werewolf walking by. Naturally, Stiles had to investigate. She wore her tight black curls natural, like a halo around her face, and her long, brown fingers could knead dough and decorate pastries faster than Stiles thought possible. Her home doubled as the bakery, and Stiles spent more time there than he probably should, but she never complained and fed him on a regular basis. She made him miss Melissa a little less.

They lived with Erica, who spent surprisingly little time at home. She came in late at night and left in the morning and eyed Stiles suspiciously whenever she saw him. Scott said she was a trader with other packs and that she sometimes brought in supplies from the human world. She traveled a lot and even when she was home she usually slept in the pack pile.

When he wasn’t training or helping Scott with his chores so they could go swim sooner, Stiles was trying to figure out where the wolves hid their Internet. Short of actually going inside people's houses, though, there didn't seem to be any hidden buildings that weren't public, and there weren't any easily accessible computers, even in Deaton's medical facility. Scott guarded his phone in his sleep and caught Stiles one time trying to pry it from his hands in the middle of the night. Still, Stiles wasn’t about to just wait around and ask for permission – he needed to talk to his dad as soon as possible. Like hell he was going to wait three whole months. Scott backed up Deaton’s assertion that they had talked to his dad before they brought ( _kidnapped_ , Stiles corrected) him to the pack territory. Stiles didn’t care; he needed to make sure, for himself, that his dad was ok and that he knew Stiles was trying to find a way back to him as soon as possible.

“Why can’t they visit?” Stiles demanded one day as he and Scott sat on the lake edge, drying off in the sun. Swimming usually relaxed him and cleared his overactive senses. Scott had caught him trying to sneak his phone out of his pant pocket while he was in the water, though, and the conversation turned to this subject. Stiles was thrumming with tension as he waited for Scott to find the right words.

“It’s not really my place to explain.” Scott finally settled on, looking pained. “Derek will talk you through this when he gets back and the time is right for it.”

“Fuck Derek,” Stiles scoffed. To his surprise, Scott’s eyes flared gold and he stood quickly.

“Don’t say that. Seriously. People will tolerate a lot from you right now Stiles, but not that,” Scott growled, pointing a stern finger at Stiles. Stiles gaped at him.

“What, is freedom of speech a thing of the human world too? Are we not allowed to criticize our mighty leader?” Whether he was allowed to say it or not, how about fuck no.

“It’s not that. It’s… Derek has been through a lot. He's doing the best he can. Everyone’s in his corner right now, and for good reason. Put your anger on someone else. Put it on me if you have to, but leave Derek alone.” Scott’s chin jutted out stubbornly. Stiles sighed.

“Whatever. All hail King Derek, I guess.”

Scott frowned at him and turned to trudge back to town without another word. Stiles followed after a few moments.

* * *

Stiles wasn’t allowed to explore the woods on his own, which, according to Scott, was the best part of the pack territory. He was a flight risk right now, so he needed a supervisor at all times. Usually the most recently integrated pack member was charged with the responsibility, so Stiles supposed he’d lucked out with Scott. Deaton supervised them when he had time and imparted his seemingly never-ending wisdom. He took Stiles out to train him in the water just as Scott had told him he would, and soon Stiles was much better at important things like walking and moving and reaching for breakable cups.

Rogue escape pretty quickly disappeared from his mind. He didn’t even know which direction it was to get out of the mountain. All the roads were dirt, and there were roads going in pretty much every direction. Also, Stiles got the sense that even when Scott wasn’t watching him, someone was. While the rest of the lycanthropes respectfully kept their distance, it seemed like whenever Stiles turned around there was someone looking his direction.

He figured he needed a better plan than just to run off in the middle of the night. He needed a long-term plan, something to get him out and keep them from coming after him.

* * *

He started to feel the itch for pack one night as he lay in his bed trying to drift off to sleep. Scott had been busy all day assisting in the birth of sheep, which Stiles wanted no part of, so Stiles had spent his time hanging out with Sally and helping her with a birthday cake for one of the kids he had yet to meet. Unfortunately, he was really only comfortable with scenting Scott so far, so he didn’t get as much pheromone contact as he normally would. Scott was good about reminding him to scent him a few times a day as it was supposed to speed up the process of Stiles adjusting to his body’s changes. Scenting was still super weird to Stiles, but it helped a lot to clear his mind of the overactive clutter that was being a werewolf, so he listened to Scott’s advice.

So that day he hadn’t scented anyone. Also, tomorrow was Friday, which apparently meant he had to meet everyone in the pack. All at once. At a noisy dinner. Sounded like a real treat. Which was why he was lying awake staring at the ceiling totally looking forward to it.

Stiles tossed and turned until about midnight when he decided: fuck it. Pack pile it was. It still sounded even weirder than scenting did, but he figured if scenting worked as well as it did then he might as well try it. He got up quietly and pulled on his sweatshirt. His head was buzzing with the noise of the crickets outside and owls catching their squealing prey. He was desperate to clear it.

When he went out into the living room, Scott was there, his eyes flashing in the dark.

“What are you doing?”

“Puppy piling.”

  
“It’s a pack pile.”

“Sure it is.”

Scott cuffed him on the shoulder, yawning. 

“I’ll go with you.”

“Jesus, I’m not gonna run. I believe you when you say I won’t get far.”

“Still.” 

Scott walked with him all the way to the Main House, where he dropped him off at the doors.

“Derek’s back. He will seriously kick your ass if he hears you running, so don’t try it. I'm not up for the pack pile tonight.” Scott yawned again and turned to pad down the path back home.

Stiles stood in the night air for a minute longer, watching Scott go and listening to the different sounds this part of the wood had to offer. A group of deer was traveling through the forest off to his left. It sounded like a big group – at least ten. He could hear the soft snuffles of people sleeping and dreaming through a wall off to his right, where the pack pile was.

He tentatively pushed the heavy door open, his footsteps echoing in the wide, circular meeting room as he walked in. He could already smell the werewolf pheromones in the air, calming and hypnotizing him. But as he stepped closer to the sleeping room, the smell became more comforting and less hypnotizing. Stiles stopped outside the door to the pack pile wondering where the captivating flavor to the smell had disappeared.

He turned and followed the traces of the smell, crossing the giant room and stopping this time outside the door to what Scott had told him was the alpha’s home, where it was stronger.

It smelled… like heaven. It was the same smell that hit him the first time he changed, only better, somehow. Sweeter. More enticing.

Stiles closed his eyes, his instincts calling to him. His hands itched as he reached for the door.

Almost as if in a dream, he opened it.

The inside looked just like any other cabin he’d been in so far. There was that same wooden couch again; a gas stove in the corner; and a long, knitted rug covering the polished wood floor.

Stiles padded through the room as quietly as he could, tugged by the scent like a fish with a line caught in his mouth. The farther he went, the richer the smell became, further clouding his mind and relaxing his body. He was so unfocused he figured he was probably dreaming. Maybe he’d already laid down in the pack pile and fallen asleep.

He came to another door. He opened it slowly, letting it fall open into a room much like his own. The bed in the corner looked bigger, swathed in dark blankets. Derek was lying there, curled over on his side, sleeping.

Stiles stepped inside. 

The whole room smelled so alluring, so inviting that Stiles didn’t even think about it -- couldn’t think about anything, really -- when he drifted closer and closer to the bed.

He stopped himself, finally, at the edge of the bed. Everything in him was asking him to crawl into it, to tuck himself under the alpha’s chin and bury his nose in his neck. It would smell… it would feel… like nothing he’d ever experienced. Stiles was sure of it.

A tiny voice in the back of his head asked: but what if it _wasn’t_ a dream?

It was that thought that had him hovering at the edge of the bed when Derek’s eyes opened, flashing deep red, and jolted him into realization.

Stiles was across the room in half a second, his super speed surprising even himself, but Derek had a hand on the back of his neck by the door and was already dragging him back. He sent Stiles sprawling to the floor before he stood over him, tall and strong and intimidating, and snarled.

“Who sent you?”

Stiles winced. The sound of an angry alpha apparently had a physical effect on him; his whole body immediately shook with fear.

Stiles hid his face on impulse, covering his eyes with his elbow and cowering down into the ground like it could absorb him. Derek snarled again and Stiles’s shaking intensified in response.

“Who sent you?” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly and so angry with Stiles that Stiles couldn’t bear it. This definitely wasn’t a dream. He’d never felt so bad in a dream before.

Derek heaved him to his feet with another snarl and pushed him in front of him by the collar, out through the living room and into the pack meeting room. It echoed with the sound of Stiles hitting the cold stone floor as Derek shoved him down.

The door to the pack pile opened up and several curious heads peaked out. Derek’s eyes flared red as he ordered them to go home, his command repeated in echoes too. They all skittered out the door immediately, darting across the edge of the room with enhanced speed. Derek barked an order at one to bring him Boyd and Deaton.

“You will tell me,” Derek promised in a low rumble, crouching down by Stiles’s head. His red eyes were terrifying in the dark, slit with anger and accompanied by that continuous growling. “Or I will make you tell me.”

Stiles curled in on himself, his body screaming at whatever made this guy special enough to have such control over him. Pheromones. Super voice. Stiles didn’t know how, he just knew it was agony and he wanted it over. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I did that.”

Derek scoffed, the sound sharp and harsh. An iron hand curled in the collar of Stiles’s shirt and lifted him several feet off the floor like it was nothing. Derek was opening his mouth to say something else that would undoubtedly cause Stiles’s body to vibrate with anxiety when a sharp gasp came from the door.

“Derek! Stop!”

Derek’s head jerked up and his eyes narrowed at the door. Deaton spilled through, followed by Boyd and an older man with blond hair that Stiles had never met. Deaton was next to them in an instant, holding his hands up in supplication.

“Let me take him.”

Derek growled again and threw Stiles at Deaton, who caught him easily. He held Stiles to his chest, directing Stiles’s nose to his neck, where Stiles drew deep, calming gasps of scent. His heartbeat slowed somewhat, his body relaxing despite the emotional anxiety that survived the effects of the scent. 

“What happened?” Deaton asked, low and edging on accusatory. Stiles shivered when he heard Derek’s voice reach his ears again, still laced with anger.

“He was in my bedroom. Watching me in my sleep. He’s a plant.”

Deaton seemed to tense at the words. He pulled Stiles away from him and directed him, much more gently than Derek had, into a chair nearby.

“This isn’t one of your interrogation rooms. This is your new pack member.” It sounded like Deaton was scolding the alpha. “He barely knows his own body yet; there may be another explanation. Stiles?”

Stiles, shaking and filled with shame, drew his knees up to his chest and squeezed his body into the smallest possible shape.

“You know as well as I do that we’ve been waiting for this. He’s just the first. They’ve finally figured it out,” Derek spat into the too-big room. Stiles could barely focus past the terrible feeling overtaking his body, but that confused him even more. What did Derek think he was?

“Stiles?” Deaton asked gently. He felt a hand on his forehead smoothing his hair back.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened,” Stiles managed to say into his knees, his teeth chattering with the shaking of his body.

“Derek, you need to calm down. He’s too sensitive to your scent. Your hostility is overloading his system,” Deaton threw over his shoulder with tense urgency. Stiles heard Derek stalk farther away, muttering something and starting to pace. Deaton untangled Stiles’s arms and drew Stiles to his neck again where he took deep breaths that lessened his shaking and eased the pit in his stomach.

“I want a full investigation started. I want everything we can find out about him: where he’s been, what he’s done, who he’s talked to in the last year. I want criminal records. I knew something was off about him. Knowing Scott was too big of a coincidence. Presenting as soon as we walked up was too big a coincidence. He doesn’t _smell_ right. His eyes are _wrong_. Now you say he’s sensitive? He’s _synthetic_. And he almost had us fooled.”

“Derek!” Deaton’s voice rose to match Derek’s. “Enough. Look what you’ve done. He’s been here less than a week. What if you’re wrong? What is he going to think about us now? He still hasn’t forgiven us for taking him from his father like that.”

“What if I’m _right_?” Derek growled.

* * *

Deaton brought him into the pack pile room. Blankets and pillows were still scattered along the big mattress from the other werewolves leaving in a rush. He directed Stiles to lie down in the middle where the pheromones were strongest and freshest. It still took Stiles a long time to fall asleep.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Stiles asked Deaton, who was sitting next to him and watching him.

“In the morning we’ll have a meeting to discuss what to do. Derek will want to open an investigation into your life before you changed. We’ll talk to your father, as well as your school friends. Look at public records. He’ll talk to Scott. He’ll want to talk with you again.”

“What’s he looking for?”

Deaton was quiet. Stiles was still shivering somewhat, but his mind was hazy with pheromones and his eyes were drooping.

“We’ll talk in the morning after the elders have met.” 

* * *

When Stiles woke it was to light filtering through the windows. Boyd was standing guard at the doors as he had all night, watching him. Stiles curled in on himself and tried to pretend he hadn’t woken up. He felt achy, kind of sick, and completely humiliated.

Eventually he got up to fold his blanket and put his pillow away. He approached Boyd with his eyes down. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Wait,” Boyd answered simply.

Stiles waited. He waited all morning. At first he tried to ask Boyd questions, but when he got nothing out of him he sat quietly in the middle of the room and listened to the woods outside. Near noon, he heard a group of people walk into the meeting room and open the doors to the pack pile from the outside. Derek was among them, his eyes their normal pale hazel again, as was Deaton and two older werewolves who Stiles didn’t know by name. They all stopped at the edge of the giant mattress, leaving Stiles alone in the middle of the room. 

“Stiles, how are you this morning?” Deaton asked. He was the only one looking at him like he wasn’t a criminal.

“Um. Really sorry. I--” Stiles ducked his head as that same sense of shame crushed his chest. “I was way over the line, going into Derek’s bedroom. I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I did that, honestly.”

Derek shifted in place, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes in Stiles’s direction. Stiles quickly looked down. The other werewolves were all scrutinizing him too, but Derek’s close attention bothered him the most.

“He’s not lying. Everyone here can confirm. He doesn’t know.” Deaton turned to Derek. Derek cocked his head to one side, his eyes never leaving Stiles. Deaton sighed and addressed Stiles."Stiles, were you trying to hurt Derek last night? We just need to hear your answer."

"No! I wasn't. I swear." Stiles felt a surge of hope as he remembered that werewolves could read your heartbeat and tell if you were lying. 

Deaton looked back at Derek, pursing his lips.

Then Derek stepped, barefoot, onto the mattress, stalking forward like a predator and only stopping a foot from where Stiles was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest. Stiles kept his eyes and head down, afraid of Derek's mysterious ability to hurt him with just his presence.

“You really don’t know why you came into my room last night?” he asked softly. 

The question tugged at him, almost physical. It was one he'd been asking himself all morning. 

“You smell…” Stiles swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His cheeks heated and he wanted to glue his mouth shut, but his dad had always said the only way out of serious trouble was to tell the truth. It was doubly true in front of the pack of lie detectors watching his every move.

“I smell…?” Derek pressed, quiet but unmistakably deadly.

“… so good. I couldn’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I couldn’t stop myself.” Stiles buried his face in his knees again in shame. He’d never felt so humiliated. “I know it was seriously creepy and a huge invasion of privacy. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not like this. I don’t go into people’s homes without permission. I don’t watch people sleep. My body just feels like a stranger since I became a werewolf.”

Derek squatted in front of him and Stiles heard him drawing in deep breaths.

“He’s telling the truth, Derek. The boy is sensitive to your scent and vulnerable as a new lycanthrope,” Deaton pressed, his voice quiet.

“Get me Scott McCall.” Derek's voice was hard and unyielding.

Boyd slipped through the doors. They all waited in tense silence, Derek still breathing deeply close to him. Stiles couldn’t look up, couldn’t move, he was so humiliated and frightened.

He heard Scott stumble into the room, heard him stop abruptly, probably taking in how much trouble Stiles had gotten himself into. 

“Did he try to run?” Scott asked, disappointment clear in his voice.

“No.” Derek stood. Stiles could still feel his eyes on him, never leaving. “Tell me about your friend, Scott.”

Scott was silent for what felt like a long time. Stiles could hear everyone breathing in the room, could smell Derek in front of him; even now it loosened the muscles in his back and begged him to tilt his head to the side in submission to the alpha.

“He’s my best friend,” Scott said slowly. “I’ve known him since first grade. He shared his crayon with me.”

“Good. Then you’d know if he changed at all in the past year.”

“If you mean a permanent bad mood… I mean, I abandoned him right before senior year.” Scott sounded remorseful, which Stiles appreciated. Stiles was doing his best not to hyperventilate at the calculating, patient way Derek asked his questions so he couldn’t show Scott a sign of appreciation.

“I mean his scent. Anything different? Anything off?”

Scott paused.

“No. Nothing. He smells the way he always did.”

Derek was silent then, too. For a long time Derek was silent.

“Did he ask about the pack?”

“Everyone asks about the pack,” Deaton cut in. “You’re reaching.”

“We’ll see,” Derek growled. “I want everything on him. Boyd, he’s yours until we’ve concluded the investigation.” Derek crouched again, so close Stiles could smell his amazing scent like he’d been drugged with it. It felt jarring to be so drawn to and so afraid of the same person at the same time. “If I find anything…”

“Derek!” Deaton said sternly. “He’s still your beta until proven guilty.”

"Guilty?" Stiles couldn't help asking. 

He felt Derek’s breath, hot and so sweet smelling, ruffle his hair. It paralyzed him.

“You and I will talk again soon.”

Stiles shivered on the ground as he listened to Derek pad back across the mattress. The group filed back out, leaving Scott, Boyd and Deaton. Scott was at his side faster than Stiles was used to Scott moving. Deaton walked over more slowly.

“What the hell did you do, Stiles?” Scott grabbed him urgently, shaking him a little. “Did you try to hurt Derek?”

“No,” Stiles moaned. “I didn’t, I swear. I wasn’t trying to hurt him.”

“What did you do?” Scott pressed, his face the picture of worry. 

“I just followed my instincts.”

* * *

Life was pretty much a nightmare after that. Well, an even worse one. Boyd was his permanent shadow, and Scott barely let him to pee on his own.

They cancelled the dinner “welcoming” him to the pack. That hurt more than he’d thought it would. Maybe, possibly, some tiny part of him had found it cool that they were having a big dinner just for him. No one had ever made a big deal out of him like that. It was a blow he didn’t expect, even if he should have, what with Derek treating him like he was an FBI-level threat.

The worst thing Stiles had done to date was accidentally kill his goldfish by forgetting to feed it. He hardly thought he qualified as a threat to Derek, who could leave have him cowering on the floor with just the sound of his voice.

But then again, Stiles couldn’t blame him much: he’d stood over his bed just looking at him. If that didn’t spell Paranormal Activity kind of creepy, Stiles didn’t know what did.

Fuck it. He deserved the detail. He wanted the detail, even. He didn’t know what he might do next. He now understood why the werewolves glued a babysitter to his ass every second of every day since he arrived. His body was a mystery to him that no one was currently trying to explain.

His strict supervision continued for the next week. He missed pack movie night, the pack run, and was basically on house arrest. He was only allowed to leave the cabin to help Scott with his job. The weirdest part of the miserable experience, by far, was Scott and Erica cramming into his bed with him at night like they were all threesome buddies. Which they were not, not even close—Erica couldn’t even stand him, from what little Stiles could get from her. But every night they both slid into bed with him silently and wrapped their arms around his torso. Erica even shoved his face into her neck once, after a long day of sitting around the house, and muttered, “I can’t stand the mopey face, Stilinski.” Stiles weirdly appreciated it since it really helped him fall asleep at night to be in what he guessed was a Deaton-ordered mini pack pile.

Scott gave him frustratingly little information, as did Deaton. Scott just kept telling him that he was innocent and he shouldn't worry, Derek's investigation wouldn't turn anything up. _What anything was he looking for? Just things, Stiles. Derek will explain. It will be ok._  

It wasn’t until Wednesday that Derek finally called for him in the pack meeting room. Stiles clutched at Scott’s arm when Boyd told him. Stiles asked Scott if he would come with him; Stiles was a mess from worrying and he couldn’t face his accusers alone.

“Of course I'm coming. Deaton will be there too and he’s on your side. He’s in charge of newbies, so he has to represent you when you meet with Derek,” Scott reassured him.

Deaton was there as Scott promised, as was the older man with blond hair who Scott identified as Peter. The silver-haired woman Stiles had seen sleeping in the pack pile room was there too, along with several other elder werewolves. Peter’s eyes flared gold as Stiles entered the room. Stiles's tribunal was sitting in the chairs at the smallest, innermost circle. Derek gestured for them to sit in the chairs opposite them on the circle as Boyd took his place next to Peter.

Derek waited for both of them to settle before he spoke. His voice was soft but powerful in the big room.

“After a careful investigation, we’ve found nothing to implicate you, Stiles Stilinski.” Derek shifted, looking slightly over Stiles’s shoulder rather than in his eyes. Stiles didn’t know what to think about Derek’s mannerisms, but the words coming out of his mouth were a huge relief. “Your friends and family all affirm your character. You’ve spoken nothing but kind words about us. You’ve been a friend to lycanthropes all through Scott’s transition. You haven’t affiliated with any groups that seek to do us harm.”

Stiles started to respond, but Scott elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He caught Stiles’s eye and shook his head slightly. The older werewolves across from them watched the exchange without comment. Derek continued on like he hadn’t seen anything, even though he’d obviously paused to let Scott silently communicate.

“We have clever enemies, as well as reckless ones. Too many of them,” Derek continued, his voice lowering. “We’ve lost good people to them in this pack.” Peter looked away at the words and all the werewolves showed some subtle reaction of sorrow. “It was because I prioritize the safety of my pack over everything else that I treated you the way I did. Deaton has told me my treatment was unfair. I now agree with him. I offer you my apology.”

Stiles looked at Scott, wondering if he could open his mouth now. Scott subtly shook his head, glancing at Stiles before refocusing on Derek. _Damn it._

Derek hefted a deep sigh like he regretted what he was about to say.

“This Friday we will formally welcome you to the pack with my blessing.” He sounded like he was doing anything but giving a blessing. He looked… glum. Moody. Maybe that was just Derek, but Stiles had a feeling he hadn’t lifted his suspicions. Maybe the others had forced him into it since he hadn't found any hard evidence that Stiles was a secret assassin.

Stiles stared at Scott as the silence continued on. Scott nodded. _Finally_.

“What was wrong with my scent?” Stiles asked. The werewolves across from him all blinked at him in silence. The silver-haired woman sat forward and subtly sniffed the air. Derek stared at him too, unspeaking.

“You said I smelled off. What do I smell like? Deaton already told me my eyes are fu—messed up. And I know… I know it’s weird that I presented when I did and at my age. But no one else has told me that I smell off, and Scott says I smell fine. But you have better senses than anyone,” Stiles wondered aloud. Scott looked completely exasperated, but it was the one thing about this that had truly confused Stiles at night. That and Derek calling him “synthetic”, but Stiles was had already asked Boyd about it a thousand times to no response. He was positive that qualified as one of the many secrets Stiles wasn’t allowed to know.

“Your scent is fine,” Derek said slowly. “I misspoke.”

“Then why do you smell so good to me?” Stiles asked, though it made him flush to do it. He had to understand what was wrong with him if he was going to be able to control himself in the future. He did _not_ want a repeat performance of the night he walked into Derek’s room, even if it meant embarrassing himself a little right now. In front of all the elders. Shit.

“I’m your alpha. My scent is designed to calm you.”

“It… I’m really sorry if this is rude, but I still don’t know anything about werewolves. Your smell doesn’t just relax me; it draws me in. I felt like it was pulling me to you. It was so strong that I didn’t know how to resist it.”

Scott put his face in his hands. Whatever. Stiles needed to know. He had to ask.

“Does everyone feel like that, or is it just me? Am I just terrible at controlling myself with scent? It was almost magnetic --”

“Oh my god.” Scott finally broke from his hands. The somber mood had gone from the room and the older werewolves all looked amused now, chuckling and smiling into their hands. “Oh my god, Stiles. Why didn’t you explain it like this sooner? We could have skipped all this drama.”

Deaton cleared his throat, looking at Derek in a sort of smug way, before announcing, “Well, we’ve solved the mystery.”

“You have?” Stiles blinked. He wasn’t in on the joke and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be. 

Scott’s face was back in his hands and Stiles could hear him mutter “oh, Stiles” to himself.

Derek wasn’t looking at him anymore. He didn’t look quite so moody, but he didn’t look amused like the other werewolves, either. Even Boyd had cracked a smile before straightening his face into its usual blank expression.

“You aren’t used to lycanthrope mechanisms of… attraction. You got carried away.”

Stiles was pretty sure all the blood drained out of his face at Deaton’s words. Scott sat back in his chair. His face, on the other hand, was red for Stiles.

“I’m going to lift your detail and…” Derek stared very hard at the floor, “adjourn the meeting, if it’s amenable to the elders.”

The elders all agreed out loud. Derek stood and started towards the door to his house.

“Wait!” Stiles shot out of his chair. Ok, so he’d humiliated himself for a second time in front of the guy. He was still the only one with the power to give Stiles a chance to talk to his father. Plus, now he had leverage in the form of how much neither one of them wanted to be around each other. Maybe Derek would give him what he wanted just so he would stop talking to him -- it had worked before with Lydia. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  
“Oh my GOD, Stiles, NO!” Scott hissed.

Derek sighed visibly and beckoned him over with a hand while the other werewolves started filtering out of the meeting hall. Stiles shook Scott off as he pawed at him, determined. Boyd followed Stiles as they walked into the alpha’s living room. 

Derek turned on him as soon as the door closed behind them. The alpha’s smell was everywhere in here, spicy and arousing and so distracting. Stiles swayed on the spot as it hit him. He’d completely forgotten that just stepping into the alpha’s house could affect him in such a profound way. Derek’s eyes tracked down Stiles’s body and the alpha took a big step back before glancing at Boyd, who was smirking. Stiles realized he might as well have painted a giant red sign on his forehead announcing his feelings.

Fucking werewolves.

“My dad,” Stiles started, fighting back the rising humiliation. It was a familiar feeling now. “Can you get me a visitation earlier than three months?”

“No.” Derek said immediately and shook his head.

“What about a phone call?”

Derek paused.

“He said goodbye. We took you to your house and explained the situation to your father. He saw you. He held you. He understands what’s happening.”

“Yeah.” Stiles felt tears prick his eyes, imagining his dad holding his sleeping body like that. “ _I_ didn’t get to say goodbye, though. That’s the point. And then you went and interrogated him about me, so he's probably scared right now that I'm going to get thrown in werewolf prison!” 

Derek shook his head.

“You will see him again at the end of three months.”

Stiles’s stomach plummeted. He wiped at his tears angrily.

“Don’t you owe me or something? For throwing me around? You said you treated me unfairly and wanted to apologize. This is the way to apologize to me.”

“ _I_ owe _you_?” Derek’s eyes widened in disbelief. He took a step forward. “You came into my _house_ , beta.”

“I’m in your house right now. So? What’s the big crime?” Stiles demanded, bold in his complete and total rejection.

“The crime is that the last time someone came in here without permission my family died,” Derek grit out, his eyes flashing red. Boyd immediately looked down. Stiles felt rooted to the spot. “See these burn marks?” Derek gestured at the wall to the meeting room. “A hunter set off a bomb. This whole side had to be rebuilt. My mother, the former alpha, and my father were sleeping, just like I was when you snuck in here uninvited.”

Stiles hung his head in shock, unsure what else to say. He’d made his poor standing with the alpha even worse with his big mouth. 

Derek cleared his throat.

“You get to see your father, you just have to wait. Some of us aren’t so lucky. Now _out_.”

* * *

“Oh, I can’t believe you did that,” Scott was still moaning when they got back to the house. “And said that. And then you said _that_.”

“You had a whole week to tell me his family was murdered by an intruder in their house!” Stiles yelled at him. “What. The. Hell. Scott.”

“It wasn’t my story to tell,” Scott defended himself. “It felt like gossiping.”

“All these goddamn _secrets_. I was being investigated like a criminal!” Stiles couldn’t believe his ears. “You fucking kidding me right now? You didn’t think that was _relevant_ to share?” 

“Ok, that was my fault. I’ve just… we’re all so used to not talking about it. It’s like an unspoken rule. It hurts Derek too much to bring it up, and he has _very_ good hearing.”

“Not good enough to hear me walk through his living room, apparently.” Stiles shook his head as Scott collapsed onto the couch.

 “I’m sure he heard you. He was probably waiting to see what you would do so he could catch you,” Scott pointed out unhelpfully. Stiles threw his hands up.

“Well, I wish I could get drunk and forget about the horror that was today, but I can’t because I’m a fucking werewolf with the metabolism of a furnace. So instead, I’m going to go stuff my face with Sally’s cookies. But you know what, Scott? Cookies aren’t alcohol. No. They’re _cookies_.”

“Don’t forget that the dinner’s back on this Friday! That’s in two days!” Scott called as Stiles stalked from the house.

That night, Erica plopped down next to him on the bed. Stiles had his face pressed into his pillow but he could tell it was her. He automatically scooted over so she could squeeze under the sheets with him. She made no movement to lie down next to him, though.

“I hear some pup needs to brush up on his lycanthropy sex ed.” 

Stiles inhaled the pillow before he sat up, coughing. Erica chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, which was probably supposed to be soothing. Paired with her smug expression, it just felt patronizing.

“Cheer up. We’ve all been where you are.”

“Really?” Stiles turned and glared at her. “Really, you’ve been where I am? You’ve stalked the alpha in his sleep because you had a crush on him? You’ve had an investigation opened on you your first week here? Really?” 

“Aw, puppy.” Erica smiled, obviously enjoying his misery. “What do you want to know?”

“Gosh, I don’t know, let’s start with literally everything. I know nothing, Erica. I’m a blank slate. Draw on me.”

She did. 

Stiles wished she hadn’t.

Apparently, werewolves didn’t get pregnant very often, but they sure as hell tried. Their high metabolism and the resulting high temperature of their bodies created an inhospitable environment for procreation to successfully occur, and their bodies overcompensated for this by trying really, really hard. Like, way too hard.

Stiles felt his ears burning as Erica explained heats and knots to him, so relaxed she could have been talking about the weather. 

“So I’m going to get a…”

“Yep. Big one.”

“And you…”

“About once a year. It’s not that big a deal.”

“And what do we…” 

“We usually pair off by preference or age. The whole scent thing? That tells you you’re biologically compatible with someone to have at least a shot at getting pregnant. We call it 'infatuation' because people tend to go a little wonky when it first happens to them. If you’re not trying to get pregnant, you pair off with someone you’re not compatible with. Most couples, even couples with infatuation, never get pregnant, so it doesn’t really matter that much.”

“So, Derek… he’s not infatuated with me.”

Erica laughed. Hard.

“It doesn’t happen to guys. That’s why they didn’t know what happened to you at first. It’s usually just girls who can catch the scent. You’re special, puppy. Must be because you bat for both teams.”

Stiles sat up at that.

“Yeah, what’s that about? Did becoming a werewolf change my sexual preferences, too?”

“Ok.” Scott opened the door to Stiles’s room. He’d pretty obviously been listening in on their conversation -- probably hiding because he didn’t want Stiles to ask him questions about his own sex life. Kira peeked her head in after Scott, waving at Stiles in a friendly way. “I distinctly remember you asking me sophomore year if you were attractive to gay guys. Don’t you go trying to blame this on the change.”

“Oh, excuse you, I was obviously kidding.”

“No you weren’t!” Scott narrowed his eyes at him. Kira ducked her head to hide a grin. 

“Ok, I wasn’t.” Stiles deflated. What the hell. He’d always been curious about guys. That was apparently impossible to keep to himself anymore in this hell hole of lie detectors and super snouts. "For the record, that's creepy and I hate all of you." 

“Stiles, honestly I’ve been waiting for this for years. I’m just surprised you chose to… do it the way you did it.”

“Nothing about that was a choice and you know it,” Stiles sputtered.

“Low blow, Scott. Low blow.” Kira shook her head at him. 

“Sorry.” Scott apologized immediately.

“Dude, you should have told me… so many things. You suck. Apology not accepted.”

Stiles stared at his hands while Erica giggled and Kira rubbed Scott’s back. 

“So let me make sure I have this straight: I just outed myself to all the elders; I declared my intentions to get Derek, my alpha, pregnant; and then I pissed him off by bringing up the taboo subject (that everyone knew about) of his dead family.” Stiles nodded to himself. “Sounds like me. Did I miss anything?”

Erica swung an arm around his shoulders and scented him playfully before resting her head on his shoulder. It felt oddly friendly, in contrast to how she'd mocked him all through their sex ed session.

“Outing yourself? Not a big deal to lycanthropes. We’ve always mated for love, not children, so it’s never been looked down upon. Also, you told Derek you wanted _him_ to get _you_ pregnant, not the other way around. And the last one really is Scott’s fault. He should have told you.”

“So.” Stiles bit his lip. He felt a little like crying. Fuck his life. “I told Derek I wanted to be the _little spoon_?”

“Wrong again.” Erica grinned and patted him gently on the head. “You told _everyone_ you wanted to be the little spoon. I heard about it from Sally, who heard about if from Maria and Peter, who had to explain to everyone that you weren't the worst wannabe assassin in the history of ever. First rule of the pack? What one person knows, everyone knows.”

"That's not true," Stiles grumbled. "You all know everything, and I don't know a goddamn thing."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... does everyone hate Derek right now? Just curious where the level is at for him.


	4. The Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter will be more uplifting and answer some questions... and raise more, probably. Thanks again for reading and commenting! I value your opinions and thoughts on the story so far.

Stiles was beyond confused when Scott opened his door the next morning and blinked wide eyes at him. 

"Uh... Derek's here to see you." 

Stiles fell out of his bed in surprise. He was sure he bruised his knees on the floor, but when he sat up to check they'd already healed over. 

"I don't want to see him," Stiles insisted. "Tell him to go away." 

Scott looked mortified as he glanced back through the door and backed up a little. Derek stepped into the bedroom, his eyes combing over Stiles's ruffled, sleepy appearance. He settled easily in the chair at Stiles's desk and nodded to Scott, who left the room in a hurry. 

"What?" Stiles asked moodily, crossing his arms over his chest in embarrassment. Damn the alpha and his stupid smell. It took everything in Stiles to keep from pressing closer to get a better whiff. "I didn't say you could come in." 

"Well, now we're even." 

Stiles glared at him. Derek looked like he wanted to glare back and was trying really hard to resist. When he looked away he rubbed a hand over his face like he was tired -- tired of Stiles or tired of something else, Stiles didn't know. Probably Stiles.

"If you aren't here to tell me you changed your mind about my dad then you should leave," Stiles bit out.

"I'm not a diplomatic person. Never have been," Derek said. His tone was different than before and much less aggressive. It startled Stiles somewhat, given how Derek had treated him so far. "I'm just going to level with you, Stiles. You have no reason to trust or even like us at this point. I don't trust you, either. My priority is the pack and the pack's safety, always. All I'm here for is to apologize for hurting you. It wasn't my intention. Deaton has told me," Derek paused, sighing like this in particular was something he was tired of, "that you are especially sensitive to my... presence, which made things worse than I realized." 

"You are really great at apologies, you know that?" Stiles shook his head. 

Derek huffed and sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He took a deep breath like he was practicing patience exercises in his head. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"On paper, you're everything I want in my pack -- fiercely loyal, kind, intelligent. Scott talked about you a lot at first. He missed you more than anyone. And from talking to your friends and family, I'd really like to like you, Stiles." Stiles flushed. This wasn't where he expected the conversation to go and he didn't know how to properly shut it down with sarcasm. It was difficult to hold onto his anger when Derek was complimenting him, which was probably why he was doing it. "Also famously curious and stubborn. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't figured out an inventive new way to run yet." 

Stiles caught the way Derek phrased the statement like a question. _As if_ he would tell him his secret plans. 

"I'm working on it," Stiles admitted, more to stick it to Derek and assert that he wasn't brainwashed yet. "I'm a long-term planner." 

"I figured." Derek's mouth twitched with a smile. Stiles really hated himself for finding it attractive. 

"You know you're still a dick, right? Compliments won't change that. You can say whatever you want." Stiles frowned. 

Derek glanced at him, his jaw muscle twitching. It looked like it took real effort to ignore that one. "Because you are such a curious person, I imagine you need answers more than most." 

"You think?" Stiles plopped down on the side of his bed that was farthest from Derek to avoid his scent. Part of him wanted to cut Derek off and demand he leave again, stick to his guns with what he'd said about his dad. But Derek was right -- he was a curious person, and he wanted to know where Derek was going with this confusing response. He knew better than to hope for real answers, but still... he might get something worthwhile.

Derek ran a hand through his spiky black hair. When he looked back up at Stiles, Stiles thought he looked more like a real person rather than the terrifying super-soldier that put him through hell this last week. 

"The change doesn't just happen to good people. It can happen to anyone. The moment you changed, you became our responsibility. That's why you're here right now. But I need to figure out if I can trust you with pack secrets first before I hand them over to you, especially if you would use them to hurt us. Can you understand that?" Derek actually sounded like he was pleading with Stiles. It was unsettling to see the alpha look up at him like that, like he was giving Stiles a choice in something for once. It confused Stiles's new lycanthrope instincts and muddled his resolve. "Can you level with me too?" 

Stiles shifted, uncomfortable. He'd been consumed with how frustrating it was for him to be kept in the dark. He didn't really want to consider it could be for a good reason. 

"What do you want from me?" Stiles asked finally. "And I'm not saying I will go along with this."

"Give me time," Derek answered softly. "If you are who everyone says, I'm happy to tell you what you want to know. I _want_ you to be pack."

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. Fuck this. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Stiles was getting out of this cult, maybe in style with a high-speed car chase. He was going to the community college in Beacon Hills near his dad, who he was never leaving again. He was going to wear sunglasses and contacts all the time to hide his stupid eyes. He'd steal a dead person's social security so he could open a bank account and get a passport. Maybe his dad would even help him, considering the circumstances. He was going to travel wherever he wanted. He was going to eat curly fries every night. Go on the fucking internet. Own a TV. And a phone, for fuck's sake. 

"How much?"

"Next month. I'll come see you when I get time between my caseload. I'll tell you why we don't let humans on the territory. I'll explain to you why the no contact rule is something I can't break, regardless of the circumstances. I'll tell you more than you want to know. Just... try to focus on getting comfortable with yourself and _leave it alone_ until then. I know that's a lot to ask of anyone, especially someone like you." Derek sighed. "And I hope you'll believe me when I say I didn't mean to hurt you like I did."   

Derek really wasn't allowed to look at him like that, so tired and defeated, and make _Stiles_ feel sorry for _him_. Especially after he'd terrified Stiles for a week. Stiles wanted more than anything to tell him to go fuck himself. 

In the end, though, he said nothing. Derek leaned forward and quickly -- and gentler than Stiles thought he could be while moving so fast -- rubbed the inside of his wrist against Stiles's neck before Stiles could pull away. That stupidly amazing scent drifted up under his nose and settled the warring feelings in his stomach. Stiles rubbed at it and resolutely glared at Derek.

"That's not fair. You can't just drug me every time you want me to agree with you." 

Derek chuckled as he stood. He left Stiles to his confusing mixture of arousal and irritation.

* * *

Stiles’s expectations crashed for the pack dinner that was apparently back on. He was seriously dreading it. Before he’d even learned everyone’s names, he’d famously stalked the alpha and announced through the grapevine that he badly wanted Derek to bend him over.

His humiliation was complete.

“I don’t want to,” Stiles told Scott, sitting on the floor in front of his door, prepared to bodily blockade it if Scott tried to get in. “I’m not going. Tell them I’m sick.”

“We don’t get sick like that,” Scott argued through the door.

“No more colds? Sweet,” Stiles said giddily, forgetting for a moment what they were talking about. Scott took advantage of his distraction to tumble through the door, squishing Stiles up against the wall.

“Ow,” Stiles groaned.

“ _You’re not dressed_?” Scott took in Stiles in his shirt and boxers with bug eyes. “Dinner’s in like ten minutes!”

“I’m not going,” Stiles asserted again, balling up on the floor. “Fuck that.”

“You really think not showing up to your own dinner is the way to _repair_ your reputation?” Scott crossed his arms and Stiles felt like a little kid in trouble with his parents. “Like I said, everyone knows newbies do dumb shit. People aren’t judging you... that much. It’s going to be fine.”

Stiles sighed and let his head fall back into the wall. Scott grabbed his arms and pulled him easily up from the floor.

So Stiles ended up trudging, pants on, down the dirt path and through the little town with Scott on one side, still trying to psych him up with a terrible pep talk.

“At the end the elders will all scent you. Derek too, so don’t swoon on him again, ok? That would be really embarrassing in front of everyone. But you won’t! Because you’re going to do great. You’ll be fine.” Scott patted his back too hard. It was obviously forced optimism. Stiles didn't think he was going to be fine either.

“Have I told you lately how much I hate you?”

Scott took him to a new part of the territory, somewhere that looked kind of like a park. There was even what Could have been a giant, wooden jungle gym off to the side. Multiple round tables were piled with food under a canopy overhang lit up with lanterns. It smelled amazing, like all kinds of roasted vegetables and meats.

“Did you…?” Stiles trailed off as they approached, looking at the roasted chicken placed on each table.

“Yup. Worst part of the job.” Scott grimaced.

“Oh god. Maxine.” Stiles looked at Scott accusingly.

While most of the werewolves had largely kept their distance since Stiles had gotten there, they now approached him freely. Stiles had more people put their face in his neck before they even asked his name than he could count. He finally met the carpenter who was responsible for most of the beautiful wood furniture in the houses, the mechanic who fixed their broken light when Stiles was still on house arrest, Deucalion the seriously irritated lawyer who barely scented him before walking off, the twins Ethan and Aiden who claimed responsibility for the giant roasted deer at the elder’s table that smelled amazing, and the three little children who were apparently now free to mob him by climbing his body to scent his neck before disappearing back to their parents.

He lost track of people’s names, so he was glad he had Scott there to remind him periodically. Eventually the elders, whose names he also promptly forgot after their official introductions, went to their table. After that, everyone else filed off to their tables.

Scott forced Stiles to sit down in the empty seat next to Derek, who greeted him quietly before he started piling food on his plate. As soon as Derek started there was a flurry of motion and noise as everyone else served themselves all at once. 

It was strangely delicious, in a whole foods, co-op way. Everything had different spices and herbs and vegetables cooked in. Stiles was sandwiched between Derek and Deaton, far away from Scott or Kira or even Erica, so he found himself focusing on the food as an excuse not to talk to his neighbors, especially the one who Stiles still didn't know what to do with. And whose smell was making Stiles’s mouth water more than the food.

Deaton tried to engage him in polite conversation, mostly about how he was coming along with his training and if there were any other questions he had about pack life, and Derek turned to his other side to talk with his uncle, Peter.

When everyone was finishing eating, Derek stood up and gave a short blessing for Stiles joining the pack, which the lycanthropes applauded loudly. It sounded better than the half-hearted blessing at his trial. 

Stiles thought he actually made it through when the elders each came to him and offered their neck for scenting and he didn't trip and mash his face into any of them. Then Derek was in front of him, offering his neck. Stiles leaned in to scent him as quickly as possible and get out, but it hit him hard, more concentrated than ever before. His knees buckled and gave and his mind went completely blank. 

Boyd caught him. He hadn't much cared for Boyd when Derek glued him to Stiles's side for a week, but now he was intensely grateful to the observant werewolf as he quietly and smoothly helped him back into his seat. Boyd smelled good too, but in the way Scott did – calming, not-fall-over-in-front-of-everyone good. Stiles couldn't bear to look Derek's way to gauge his reaction. Deaton quickly put a hand to Stiles's head to check his temperature and look in his eyes. He clucked to himself and nodded in Derek's direction, obviously struggling not to smile. Stiles briefly wondered if the knives they were using for dinner were sharp enough to impale himself on. He was probably strong enough now to accomplish it with blunt knives, too -- perks of being a werewolf.

Stiles stood uneasily from his chair and waved at everyone as they all cheered for him, avoiding even the friendly eyes as he hurried to Scott’s table. Erica wasn’t even trying to hide her laughter, and Scott's face looked pink with second-hand embarrassment.

“Well, that was great. Now let’s go.”

“You can’t go! We still have the pack run,” Scott hissed back, shooing him in the direction of his chair. Derek was again seated next to Stiles’s chair. Stiles swallowed at the sight, just the thought of getting close to the alpha again overwhelming. 

“Dude. No.”

“Derek can hear this, you know.”

Stiles huffed and gestured wildly at himself.

“Kind of maxed out on the embarrassment here, Scotty. Doesn’t much matter anymore, does it?”

“Just go sit down! We’ll start the run in a few minutes. You'll be fine.”

Derek led the run, too. He stood from the table, his red eyes flashing in the dimming light, and the din from the werewolf's chatter quieted somewhat in response. Derek dumped the remnants of his food in what looked like a giant compost bin and his plate in a big tub of water before he started walking toward the forest silently. The lycanthropes followed in a staggered, relaxed way, cleaning their plates before loping to catch up to the alpha, some even tumbling and cartwheeling. Derek had already started jogging by the time Stiles finished cleaning his plate too, Scott tugging on his sleeve and telling him to hurry.

As Scott started running at what seemed like an impossible pace, Stiles felt the amazing new power in his own legs propel him forward to keep up with him. The woods seemed to rush up to him, quick but clear. He’d gotten accustomed enough to his body now that he didn’t even stumble as his speed picked up enough that the other werewolves around him looked they were running with, rather than away, from him. He caught the sound of laughter and the occasional smile his way as the lycanthropes danced around him, leaping over logs and into trees with awe-inspiring grace.

At this speed, pheromones created interesting patterns in the air. Stiles found himself mentally mapping other lycanthropes' paths based on smell alone. Derek’s was strongest even though he was farthest away, hanging on the air and leading Stiles forward even when he’d lost sight of the alpha in the distant trees.

His instincts were singing, his body alive with the stretch and pound of his legs, the air rushing through his lungs. The sounds of the forest were a symphony, a thousand animals and insects cooing and cackling and calling in his ear as he sped through. The forest darkened and Stiles could still see exactly where he was going and all the little animals scurrying out of his way. The lycanthropes around him were making yipping and howling sounds and Stiles felt sounds bubble out of his own chest in response, though he had no idea what they meant. He felt like he was part of something bigger, surrounded by the quiet noise of the pack -- like he was safe out here in the middle of god knows where. 

It went on and on until Stiles couldn't feel his legs anymore and the only thing in his mind was the tapestry of scents and sounds surrounding him. Scott finally broke his reverie when he leapt into the trees and baited Stiles into following by tossing branches at him. Kira used Stiles's back as a springboard to pounce Scott out of the tree and tumble onto the ground. Erica and another werewolf about their age, Isaac, jumped up into the trees too, yipping to each other and laughing as they tried to catch and tackle each other out. They'd slowed down considerably from their previous pace, and Stiles was antsy to keep going. 

Derek's scent had gotten stronger and stronger and Stiles was so close to catching it. 

"We're home, Stiles. Hold your horses," Scott called after him as Stiles decided to just leave them and chase farther into the forest.

"What? Already?" Stiles called back. He didn't recognize the woods around him, but as soon as Scott pointed it out it was obvious: there were the cabins way in the background of where Scott and Kira were standing and looking at him. 

"What do you mean already? It's at least one in the morning. Go get in the pack pile." Scott oomph'd as Kira jumped on his back and beckoned to Stiles to come back.

"Don't follow him like that, it's weird. You _just_ got cleared of weird stuff," Kira called at him.

Stiles felt a flush go through his neck. It hadn't been a conscious decision for him. And of course... they could smell him too. Stiles wasn't the only one who could smell Derek, just the only one who couldn't handle it. 

Stiles ran back to them without saying anything else. Erica threw an arm around his shoulder, Isaac another, and Stiles felt a little less embarrassed sandwiched between them as they walked to the pack pile. 

The pack pile was huge, with all the werewolves Stiles had seen at his dinner positioned like sprawled, interlocking puzzle pieces on the giant mattress. Most people didn't have blankets and seemed to be tightly woven against at least one other person and usually more. Stiles didn't see any sort of qualms about who laid where or touched whoever wherever -- young, old, male, female, whatever. It didn't seem to matter much. Scott laid down next to Kira and propped his pillow along someone else's thigh. Stiles hesitantly grabbed a pillow and laid down on the other side of Kira, who threaded one leg through his before she closed her eyes. Stiles felt Isaac rest his forehead against the edge of Stiles's shoulder blade and a second later Erica squirmed in between them, curling around her pillow between Isaac's stomach and Stiles's back.

It was all very strange and awkward, yet somehow comfortable. Stiles didn't know whether to hate it or love it.  

Stiles wanted to ask Scott more questions about tonight, like where Derek went when everyone else went to the pack pile, but with fifty other super ears lying around him he'd had enough humiliation for one night and decided to just let the crazy mix of pack pheromones bury him in sleep. 

* * *

Pack movie night the next day was also in the pack pile room. The room was pretty full, though not as full as the dinner the night before. A projector was set up and they watched a movie Stiles was pretty sure was still in theaters. It was a comedy, and not a terrible one. Stiles almost didn't miss his Internet connection quite so much. 

"This movie is definitely in theaters. I was just thinking of seeing it with Danny," Stiles whispered to Scott. One of the children shushed him.

"Yeah, remember we have someone who works at Google," Scott pointed out with an eyebrow wiggle. 

"You criminals." 

This must have been why Scott wasn't that interested in seeing movies with him when he was on visitation. Stiles always assumed the pack kept him so cut off from the human world that he would be desperate for the newest Amy Poehler movie on visitation, but that clearly wasn't the case. 

Afterwards, it felt like nothing to drift to sleep surrounded by the other lycanthropes. Stiles felt pretty peaceful, actually. Maybe the most normal since he'd woken up in pack territory. And sleep was so easy to find under the cloud of pleasing of pheromones. 

* * *

Erica walked with them back to their house in the morning, re-enacting the movie with Scott and tugging at her bed head somewhat self-consciously. 

Stiles stopped when he saw who was waiting outside their door. 

"Oh shit, what did I do this time? I stayed with you guys all night, right?" Stiles groaned. Derek and Boyd were hovering outside their door looking like the FBI agents they were, all menacing and leather-y.

"What? Oh. No, they're here for me, Stiles," Scott reassured him when he noticed them "You interrupted the meeting with my mom last time when you presented. It's been two weeks so I have another visitation scheduled today." 

"Oh god, does that mean you're going to be gone?" 

"Until Tuesday, yeah." 

"Who's going to babysit me?" Stiles asked pathetically. Erica cackled. 

"Deaton will find someone for you." Scott chewed the inside of his cheek. "I can see if my mom would be cool with shortening it?" 

"No!" Stiles stopped him. "No, please see your mom. And, _god_ , go see my dad, would you? Promise me. And feed him dinner. God." 

"I will." Scott hugged him quickly. It was habit now to scent his neck back. "Every night."

"Don't worry, puppy." Erica tugged him closer as Stiles watched Scott lope over to Derek and Boyd and tried not to whimper. "I'll let you scent me as much as you want while your twin is gone." 

"Can we just... like... hang over here until they're gone?" Stiles asked as quietly as he could manage. He still saw Derek glance at him out of the corner of his eyes like he'd heard. Erica twined her fingers in his and nodded. Stiles braced himself for her teasing but she was blessedly silent while Scott ducked into the cabin to get his stuff. As soon as Derek and Boyd were out of sight, though, she turned it back on. 

"Still have that pesky infatuation problem?" 

"I just don't trust myself anymore." Stiles kicked at the dirt as they started walking to their house again. "I'd rather not take any chances." 

"You should have seen Kira when she was infatuated with Scott. Followed him everywhere. She didn't tell him she was infatuated for the first few months, though, because she didn't want to overwhelm him." 

"What?" Stiles perked up. " _Was_? She's not anymore?"

"Oh, she is. You get used to it with time. It's quicker if you act on it," Erica laughed.

"What if you don't?" Stiles didn't think his odds of "acting on it" were good. "There's got to be couples who aren't a good fit for each other, despite being infatuated." 

"Just avoid him for a while and forget about it." Erica peered up at him. She seemed serious for once. "I think you could both use the space, honestly." 

* * *

Since Erica's job took her off the pack territory too much and Kira did something complicated with metal that Stiles didn't have the coordination for yet, Stiles was assigned to Isaac in Scott's absence. Isaac was a cook, so Stiles chopped vegetables and tried not to add too much thyme to things. Isaac surprised him more than once by silently pulling Stiles over to scent his neck when Stiles would tap his foot without noticing or start to chop the vegetables too fast and cut himself. 

"How's the anxiety coming?" Isaac asked eventually as Stiles poured another round of chopped onions into the giant stew they were making. 

"I'm not anxious because I'm anxious." Stiles glanced at him. "I'm anxious because I'm stuck in a hippy commune I can never really leave. So it's not, you know, coming or going anywhere."

"Nice," Isaac sounded unimpressed. "It ever occur to you that this 'hippy commune' treats you a lot better than the human world would?" 

"The human world has my dad," Stiles glared at him. "And tacos. And sneakers. And porn, for godssakes."

Isaac pushed a bushel of apples into his arms a little too hard in response. Stiles stumbled back, but easily caught his balance.

"Slice these."

When Isaac wasn't cooking, he was gardening, which was exactly what Stiles was hoping to avoid. Stiles hated gardening. Isaac eventually got sick of his sarcastic griping and made him take a vow of silence in exchange for werewolf secrets. Isaac's idea of what qualified as a secret wasn't that great, but at least Stiles learned more about the territory. Turns out the werewolves had impressive fields of vegetables, filled with things like onions, potatoes, and carrots. He also got to see the giant underground pantry filled with canned goods, and the cannery where they made them. 

Stiles pointed with curiosity at a field of cultivated leafy something on their way back to the food gardens and earned a telling laugh from Isaac. 

"You'll learn what that is soon enough." 

"You promised me secrets. That's not pot, so what is it?"

"Some secrets have to be earned with time, not silence."

The upside of working in the kitchen was that he got first grab at food more complicated and delicious than Scott and Erica's very limited cooking abilities. Plus, the kitchen people were nice -- Hayden and Jordan liked to sing while they worked and they asked Stiles friendly questions about his life before he came there. Stiles got to talk about the human world for what felt like the first time in forever and the werewolves just nodded and listened without commenting one way or another. Isaac was quieter than the other two, who both offered stories about their visitations with their family and friends. 

Afterwards Isaac walked Stiles home. It was just plain weird when it wasn't Scott; it felt more like actual babysitting than the "babysitting" he joked about with his best friend. Isaac was still mostly quiet, his hands shoved down in his jean pockets. Stiles filled the silence with chattering about all the ethnic human food he was going to eat on his first visitation with his dad.

"You really miss the human world," Isaac said eventually, sounding thoughtful. 

"I never though I'd miss school." Stiles shrugged. "You know, it was _high school_ , but at least it was interesting. Where's the library in this place? And no internet? You guys are just killing me." 

"Look, Stiles..." Isaac sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It's going to be different when you go back." 

"Not to the people who matter," Stiles immediately argued. He'd thought about this a lot. "My dad, Melissa, even my school friends... they've been great with Scott. It's not going to matter to them." 

"Really?" A bitter smile touched Isaac's face. "My dad tried to kill me on my first visitation." 

Stiles stopped. It was dark enough that no one else was outside walking the paths around them, but Stiles still felt like they were too exposed to talk about such a jarring and personal subject. But then again, Stiles was basically a stranger to Isaac. The people who might overhear them had lived with Isaac for years, had known him back then. Maybe this was the kind of secret the pack kept together, the kind that Derek asked him not to dig around for.

Isaac slowed to a stop ahead of him and turned back in his direction, looking down at the ground. Stiles was about to keep walking and try to pretend like Isaac hadn't said anything when Isaac started speaking.

"Yeah. He knocked me out, locked me in a refrigerator, and tried to suffocate me. He'd bought these special heavy chains to make sure I couldn't get out, even with my new strength." Isaac paused. "If Boyd and Derek hadn't heard me screaming... I'd be dead right now."

"My dad would..." Stiles licked his dry lips, his mind reeling. "He's not like that. Never. He'd never do that." 

"Maybe. He sounds pretty great." Isaac admitted with a bitter smile. "But I _know_ no one here would ever do that to me. Not because of what I am. We're in it together, you know?" Isaac sighed and leaned in to nose at Stiles's neck. Stiles carefully tilted for him while Isaac breathed deep and hovered there for a moment. People were always calming Stiles down by pushing him into their necks, but they never used him to calm themselves down. It was a strange and oddly gratifying reversal, that he could help Isaac with such a simple action. "Thanks. It was years ago... but it's still hard to think about."

"I'm really sorry, man." Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets too, suddenly chilly. "But I know my dad. He wouldn't do that," he asserted softly.

"You think all this self-sufficient stuff is stupid. You sneer at it and make jokes, saying we're back in the dark ages or whatever. That the human world is so vastly superior." Isaac looked out at the woods and suddenly Stiles felt terrible for opening his big mouth. "But we're doing it, you know? We're on our own and we're ok. We're better than ok. We're happy together and we don't have to beg the humans for anything. And that means everything to some of us." Isaac shuddered and looked back at the ground. "I never want to go back. I know I always have a place here and that I'm always going to be safe here." 

Stiles ducked his head too, not sure what to say. He regretted half the smart ass things he'd said today now that Isaac put it like that. Surprisingly, Isaac ruffled his hair affectionately and leaned in to scent him again. 

"Tomorrow I'll shut up for real," Stiles promised, still feeling terrible as he arched his chin to make space for Isaac.  

"I don't think you're capable of shutting up," Isaac responded. It wasn't said with any malice, though -- it sounded more like reluctant affection. They walked the rest of the way to Stiles's cabin in actual silence. Stiles kind of wanted to prove that he could do it.

"I'll be by early for the breakfast rush, so don't be late." Isaac offered a slight smile before hunching his shoulders and turning back to the path. 

 


	5. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for tales of violence against werewolves, though no actual violence happens in the present story.
> 
> Thanks for putting your thoughts down! I'm behind on answering, my apologies.

Stiles was more than happy to see Scott again when he got back from visitation. Isaac was cool, but Stiles definitely didn't want to be a cook. Or a gardener. Or anything having to do with food, really, which was like half the jobs there. Also, Erica got cranky about being deprived of the pack pile (since Stiles wasn't allowed to sleep in a house by himself yet) so she crammed in his bed with him and kicked him in his sleep. 

The best part of Scott's return, though, was hearing about how his dad was doing. Stiles pulled him down on the couch in their living room pretty much the moment Scott opened the door. Scott looked resigned as he opened his mouth to make his report.  

"Mom's been with him a lot since you left." 

"Got kidnapped," Stiles corrected. 

"Anyway, they've been bonding a lot. I think they eat dinner together most nights. He seems... ok, I won't lie to you. He's sad. But they have each other, you know? I think that's been really helpful. I'm actually grateful that they've been spending so much time together. It makes me worry less about her, too. I told him everything I could about how you were doing. I promised him I'd take care of you." 

Stiles bit his lip to fight back his tears, his heart aching at the thought of his dad all alone in their house. Scott sighed and pulled Stiles closer. Stiles felt him press something into his hand as he leaned back from the hug. Scott put a quick finger to his lips and nodded in the direction of Erica's bedroom. Stiles looked down in his hand and saw a folded piece of paper. His pulse jumped in his throat and he looked back at Scott, barely swallowing down his excited question. Scott smiled briefly. 

"I know it's hard. I'm here for you, buddy," Scott said softly. He stood and pointed in the direction of Stiles's room before wandering over to Erica's bedroom to knock on her door. 

Stiles shut the door to his own bedroom quickly. His hands shook as he unfurled the paper and real tears sprang to his eyes as he recognized his dad's handwriting. 

 

_Stiles,_

_I don't even know what to say, kid. I miss you like crazy. I still love you, of course. Nothing could change that. I'm counting down the days until I get to see you again. Got a big day planned for your first day back. Curly fries for breakfast lunch and dinner, right? No, you'll probably want to try different things, I'm kidding._

_Scott tells me you're out of that trouble you got yourself into. He didn't really tell me what you did, but I know you well enough to take an educated guess. Please, for my sake, don't do anything else dangerous or reckless. I've been on the force for a long time. I've seen enough of these transitions go bad, and I can't tell you how glad I am that you have Scott there helping you through this. Even Derek and that fellow Deaton seem like they have your best interest at heart. I never thought this would happen to us, but we play the cards we're dealt. Stay safe. Do your best to fit in there, ok? I just want you to be happy, wherever you are and however you live._

_When we get a chance to talk in person, we'll figure this out together and make a plan. Don't send me anything back if it's going to get you in trouble. I can always talk to Scott to hear how you're doing. Focus on yourself and learning about what this means for you right now. Don't. Do not. Absolutely do not try to break out. It's too dangerous for you out here right now. You hear me? Stay put. I know you're thinking about it. You're in the best place you could be to deal with this, surrounded by other people who can understand and help you. Scott tells me that you're having some trouble adjusting and you're upset about how they brought you there. I will see you in a few months. It's not that long, when you think about it. You're always complaining about how summer break's too short. This will be short, too. Promise me you'll be patient this time._

_I know this is hard on you kiddo. I love you, I always will. You've been the most resilient kid. You can do this, too. It's just another hurdle in life. It keeps going and we'll get past it together._

_Dad_

 

Stiles read and re-read it another time. To his own surprise, he found he could pick up traces of his dad's scent on the paper. He leaned in closer to scent it and felt a pang as he realized the smell didn't physically relax him the way he'd gotten used to with the other lycanthropes. It was still nice, but it was nice in the way it used to be before he changed -- a feeling in his chest rather than a ripple through his body. 

He let himself cry for a while, pressing the paper to his nose. 

* * *

The next two weeks passed in a blur. 

Pack runs were his favorite part of pack life. He felt completely free and safe when he wheeled through the forest surrounded by the pack, and for once he could follow Derek's scent without worrying about catching him because no one was faster than Derek. Besides, Scott always pulled him back at the end before he could follow Derek to wherever he went instead of pack piling with them. 

Deaton started to train him on listening to people's heartbeats to tell if they were lying. Scott was terrible at lying. Kira was fascinatingly good at it. Erica was almost always brutally honest. Isaac didn't talk enough for him to tell. Deaton also gave him brochures for pack medical school, which were filled with pictures of werewolves with their lycanthrope faces on smiling and laughing. It was a little terrifying and... unrealistic. He hadn't seen many people take their werewolf faces out since he'd been living on pack territory, other than occasionally on the pack runs when people would let loose. Or when Scott sneezed, which was hilarious. Deaton also tried to connect with him by regaling him with tales from when he was a medical school student. Deaton's idea of fun as a young werewolf vastly differed from Stiles's own idea of fun. What Stiles did appreciate was that Deaton let him borrow some of his anatomy books, which explained in disgusting detail all the new biology in Stiles's body. Stiles stayed up late at night, paging through them at his desk. 

Stiles wrote his dad a long, rambling letter about how much he missed him. Scott took one look at the giant chunk of papers and made him condense it into a very short three page essay so it would fit in his pocket. He also combed through it and crossed out all the really weird werewolf stuff, glaring at Stiles all the while. 

Stiles learned almost everyone's name and occupation, which was a feat. He learned that Deucalion was prosecuting a local oil company for encroaching on pack territory and threatening their water rights to the pack lake. That Kali gave amazing back massages. That the twins knew every rock and branch on the territory since they were the best hunters. 

A month and five days after Stiles arrived at the pack territory, Derek appeared at his door. Derek was always at Friday dinners to lead the pack runs, but Stiles never saw him on territory other than that. He was never in the pack pile. Stiles heard from Sally that he spent most of his time with the FBI, which took him all over California.

Erica pulled Stiles from his room where he was pouring through more of the medical books Deaton had given him. She hugged him tightly and scented him at the door, which was a little weird. She looked uncharacteristically somber. 

Derek nodded, but didn't say anything in greeting to Stiles. He walked away from the cabins, in the direction of the woods. Stiles jogged to catch up with him, but once he had Derek's pace was easy to follow.

Stiles cracked one axe-murderer joke that fell flat before he got the picture: this was the no talking part of the meeting.  

Stiles didn't get out in the woods very often other than to walk down with Scott to the lake, so he was grateful for the opportunity. He had to admit, Scott was right that they were the best part of the territory -- so alive, so rich with scent and sound, so green and fresh. They were endlessly interesting and Stiles loved them deeply. Stiles had plenty of information from the forest to process while he waited for Derek to start talking. He caught hints of Derek's scent too as the alpha drifted closer and farther with each step, and Stiles privately reveled in how it could make his whole body both relaxed and aroused. 

After what seemed like miles, Derek slowed to a stop. He sank down on a log and gestured to the space next to him for Stiles. Stiles accidentally sat too close and had trouble focusing past Derek's scent, but like hell was he going to say anything about it or obviously get up and move. 

"I heard you've been doing well," Derek finally said. 

"It hasn't been as bad as I thought." Stiles shrugged. "I seriously miss curly fries, though." 

"I'm proud of you for trying," Derek said softly. Stiles's heart tugged oddly as Derek brought a hand up to Stiles's neck. He had plenty of time to dodge it this time. He looked away as he let Derek rub his wrist against the juncture of his chin and neck, his fingers brushing the curve of Stiles's ear with the movement. Stiles felt his face heat up as the mouthwatering scent hit him and his vision swam. 

"Too much?" Derek asked in that same private, quiet voice. 

"I'm ok," Stiles swallowed. 

"Lie." Derek smiled and shifted farther away from Stiles on the log. It helped more than Stiles could admit. 

"Thanks," Stiles mumbled, wishing his face would cool the fuck off. Derek had just touched him. Briefly. _Barely_. Stiles was such a loser. He didn't even like Derek. Ok, Stiles didn't _like_  like him. The bastard was growing on him.

"If you're a plant, you're a damn good one. Deaton loves you. He can't say enough good things about you -- other than all the wisecracks, but those don't bother him much," Derek praised him, still smiling. Stiles's face was already red. He rubbed a hand through his hair to hide it. 

"Does that mean I get to know stuff?" Stiles asked, his heart hammering with anticipation. "Important things?"

"You get to know some things." Derek chuckled. "But I'll only tell you everything when you've decided to become pack -- once you've made the commitment to everyone that they've already made to you: to keep them safe and to look out for them before you look out for yourself."

Stiles figured as much. No way a community wound this tight loosened up completely after only a month. 

"Do you know what the most dangerous animal is, Stiles?"   
  
Stiles thought for a moment, wondering where Derek was going with this. 

"Man." 

"Yes," Derek growled. "Humans." 

"We're human, Derek. Technically --" 

"Genetically, we are humans," Derek cut him off, almost gentle. "The reality is that we act as separate species. And that's how they see us."

"No." Stiles shook his head. He refused to believe that.

"I work with humans in my job. I go into their world voluntarily and I hunt down their criminals for them. I question them and tell the humans if they're lying. I kill them if I have to, if they give me no choice. I don't enjoy it." 

Stiles waited, his heart hammering. Derek looked down at his twined hands.

"We're the only pack for almost two hundred miles in any direction, Stiles. Fifty six people. We cover a population of nearly two million humans. Do you know how common lycanthropy is in humans?"

"One in every ten thousand." Stiles blinked, doing math in his head.

"There should be close to two hundred people in this pack," Derek said. "Why do you think there isn't?" 

Stiles didn't want to say what he was thinking. He was thinking about Isaac's father. 

"Some of them are undoubtedly living in the human world, but surviving the change without discovery is very difficult. Most don't remain hidden for long and either seek us out or form their own undocumented packs. Living without pack is nearly unbearable." 

"So you're telling me... humans kill the rest of them." It was too simple a way of saying something so terrifying. Stiles didn't want to believe it. If that was true, the number was... staggering.

Derek considered him before speaking.  

"You're thinking it's strangers, aren't you? Cornered in dark alleyways, kidnapped from their beds. Some of it is. Anti-werewolf terrorist groups are the most common kind of terrorist group that I encounter in my work with the FBI. We inspire so much fear -- people who can run five times as fast, break through a concrete wall with just their fist, can tell if you're lying just by listening to your heartbeat. Who wouldn't be afraid of that? Some see it as a religious decree to eliminate us, quoting holy books." 

Stiles shifted restlessly. His feet felt inexplicably cold, his stomach clenching with anxiety. 

"The really dangerous ones, the clever ones who aren't just angry people shouting hateful words, they've figured out that it's very difficult to overpower us, even new lycanthropes who are relatively defenseless during the change process. They go for the element of surprise, and you never expect your friends, or your family, to try to murder you. That's their angle: they find people close to newly changed lycanthropes and they convince them that their children, or brothers, or sisters, or friends are demons. Unnatural. Usually the story is that some deity has cursed them and they need to be cleansed from this Earth, tapping people's faith when they're vulnerable," Derek growled the last part. "They're very good at it. Loving families, confused and scared by the changes in their children, turn into the greatest weapons. They give them all the tools they need, set up a plan, and as soon as we turn our backs they strike." 

"God, stop." Stiles put his head in his hands. "Stop. My dad isn't like that. Melissa isn't like that. They won't do anything like that."

"Your father is a good man," Derek said softly, his hand coming to rest on Stiles's back, rubbing circles. "He's already encountered some of these people as a sheriff and collaborated with us to keep other lycanthropes alive. And Melissa has been fiercely protective of Scott, despite their best efforts. She is safe." 

"They've talked to Melissa?"

Derek nodded. 

"They probably talked to you too, even if you didn't know it. There's a group that operates in this part of California. Their main mission is to eliminate us. The media always finds out about and announces new lycanthropes, and then this group follows the families. They approach them inconspicuously and make friends with them. They don't even talk about their children until they've gained their trust. Melissa didn't know her new friend was part of this organization until Scott told me about some of the warning signs he was seeing. If they find they can't convince the family members, they try to find a way into the house through friendship, sometimes romance. Then they murder the children themselves on visitation. We've been ambushed and caught off guard before." 

"Oh my god," Stiles breathed. Derek's hand stilled. He edged closer until they were sitting hip to hip, and Stiles felt his rabbit heart slow under the cloud of Derek's pheromones. "Oh my god, that's terrible." 

"That's why we don't tell you right away," Derek said softly. "You've already lost so much, the idea that you're now hunted, and that your family could be part of that... it can push people the rest of the way over the edge. Especially the young ones. The mood swings are worst in the little ones. You're much older than usual, but... this isn't easy on anyone." 

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, his chest full with horror. The idea that there were groups out there with sophisticated, truly evil plans to kill him. The idea that they wanted it so much, that they would go to such lengths... that they'd succeeded so often before. 

"I've seen... things you wouldn't believe. We respond as quickly as we can to the calls, but people wait around, schools don't always follow protocol, and often the change happens in private. Most new lycanthropes don't make it to us, or we never hear about them. I've seen the aftermath of a brother who thought his sister had been possessed by a demon and killed her. Some of them do run away, scared. I do what I do in part because it lets me get justice for all the pack members I've lost, and all the pack members I'll never meet. I get to put some of these people behind bars."

"So." Stiles swallowed. Derek's scent was keeping down what could be a full panic attack. "So, the no-contact rule..." 

"It's for everyone. New lycanthropes are volatile when they first change, unaware of their strength and speed and how to control it. Especially in distress, like you were -- accidental damage can happen. The younger you are, the more you're subject to mood swings, as well. But in part, it's to make sure they don't infiltrate us through you, and through your family, when everyone involved is emotionally vulnerable. It's also intended to give you peace and quiet to work through this and bond with the pack." 

"But what if it makes families more vulnerable?" Stiles found himself asking. "You take their children away from them. A lot of people get pissed, and for a good reason." 

"Yes." Derek sighed. "Deaton and I talk to your father at least once a week, Stiles, answering his questions and reassuring him that you're safe. We keep in contact with the families. By law, we have to offer visitation, but we don't always think it's safe to do so. Sometimes the families refuse and want nothing to do with their children after the change. That can be the best option." 

"Two years ago, a new lycanthrope came to us. Her name was Kate. She was fifteen. She grew up in one of these extremist families. When she changed, instead of killing her, they saw it as a way in. One of her first nights here, she walked into the alpha's home, my mother and father, and set off a bomb. They considered her pack already and didn't suspect her, thought she was just a pup who got lost. It killed all three of them. I was away for work or I might have died too."

"Lycanthropes have been around for thousands of years, and for most of that time we've lived separate from humans. With all our enhancements, you'd think we'd be the predators -- and that's what humans will always say. The reality is that we're a hundred times more likely to be murdered by humans than we are to murder them."  

Derek leaned down and picked up a rough black rock about the size of his palm. He stood and arched it over his head, the rock sailing through the air for at least twenty feet until it hit something invisible and sparked with electricity. Stiles jumped, the faint smell of burning drifting toward him.  

"Our territory is well protected from the outside. It's the inside we have to look out for. We have protocols in place, developed by a national and global council of werewolf elders, based on when we know lycanthropes are most vulnerable to manipulation and danger -- limiting visits to the territory by humans, the no-contact rule for the first three months, supervised visitation for the first six months. It prevents most of the worst problems. I'm obligated by law to follow these procedures." 

"I get it," Stiles found his voice. He shivered -- not cold, but something else. "Alright. I understand. No more stories. Please." He stood up with Derek, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

The alpha pressed closer, pulling Stiles into a warm embrace that nearly left Stiles unconscious with the strength of his scent. He didn't tilt for Stiles scent him, that would have certainly resulted in a black out, but the cloud of pheromones left him floating, like he was dreaming. For once, it was a welcome relief from the tight pressure in his chest. 

When Derek leaned back, Stiles was light-headed but still standing, thankfully. Derek let him clutch at his arm and get his bearings again as he showed him how to identify the territory lines, which were buried and inconspicuous. Derek explained that they let animals and lycanthropes through but, by some technology developed by werewolves, kept humans and inanimate projectiles out.

Then they started walking back. Derek was quiet at first. When he started speaking again Stiles braced himself for the worst. 

"You may feel like you have no choice in all this. In part, that's true. This just happened to you. You're under the jurisdiction of pack government automatically as a lycanthrope, even as an adult, so you can never legally live full-time in the human world again. But there's still a choice you have to make, which is whether you'll make a commitment to us to be part of our pack... or not. I've made my decision -- I'd like for you to be." 

Stiles jolted at his words. 

"What if I choose the 'or not'?" Stiles asked. 

Derek was quiet for a long time. Stiles waited, trying not to press, despite his desperation to hear the response. 

"If in another month you find you truly don't want to stay with us, we'll discuss your options. I'll be by to talk with you again." 

"I want to be with my dad," Stiles said quickly. "I want to be with him, however I can do that." 

"And if that puts you both in danger?" Derek asked. Stiles swallowed and looked away, his heart tearing at the question. The ground passed under their feet and Stiles had a million more questions he had a feeling Derek wasn't ready to answer. 

"If you want to stay with us, there are rules you have to follow. I'll discuss these in detail next time we talk. You need to be prepared to respect them if you make that choice. The most difficult one is something you're familiar with through Scott -- you cannot disclose how we run pack life, even to your family and close friends. You can talk about your life in general, like your relationships and your feelings, but anything specific to lycanthropy -- who we are, what we are, how we live, the technology we use, the laws we live by -- you cannot spread that outside of this territory. It's a big part of what keeps us safe here. That's true of any pack, anywhere in the world."

Stiles hated that. He'd hated it when it was Scott, and he would hate it for himself.

"Just think about it." Derek sighed. "Think hard about what I've told you and take this time to make a choice."

Derek scent marked him again at his door. Stiles moodily walked into his house only for Erica to crash into him with a hug that was all limbs. 

"I'm sorry," she said, kissing his cheek surprisingly sweetly. Her eyes were shining. "It sucks." 

"Yeah," Stiles agreed. He still felt sort of dazed as she held him too tightly. "Yeah, it really, really does." 

"You've got us." Scott emerged from the hallway and joined their hug at the door. "You'll always have us." 

"Thanks," Stiles mumbled, tucking his head against their hair. They stood there for a while, their pheromones mingling and soothing.

* * *

"I know you're wondering about your eyes," Deaton started as Stiles sat down on the exam table for his second checkup. Actually, Stiles didn't care about his eyes. It was just another in the list of weird things in his life now, and Stiles had lost track there were so many of them. "And I want you to know I've been in contact with other pack doctors. I haven't forgotten. They think it might be indicative of something rare and old. They're consulting with their elders. I should know something in a few months." 

"A few months? See, now this is why Internet would be such a great investment," Stiles mouthed while Deaton pressed his tongue down with a compressor and shined a light at the back of his throat. "And texting. That's a thing. What, do you send message by horse and buggy?" 

"Hardy har har," Deaton said, flat, as he checked Stiles's reflexes too. "These are special elders. The oldest among us. They live in a very reclusive part of Nepal, very hard to get to." 

"Oh shit, how old do you have to be to make it to Nepal?" 

"At least a hundred and fifty." Deaton flashed his light in Stiles's eyes next. "I did a training with the doctor among them once. She's very wise."

"Wow. I could live to be that old?"

"Assuming you don't mouth off to the wrong person." 

"Hey now." Stiles smirked. At first Deaton had stared blankly at Stiles's nonstop sarcasm, but now Stiles got these little gems in return from time to time. 

"You've been here now..." Deaton checked his chart. "A month and a half. I assume Derek has spoken with you?" 

"About the scary shit? Yup." 

"Yes." Deaton frowned, going serious. "How are you doing with that? Derek can be... blunt." 

Stiles avoided Deaton's eyes. He was scared shitless and it had shaken up at least twelve of his escape plans. 

"I've been puppy piling pretty much nonstop." 

"You mean pack piling."

"Sure."

"Well good. Taking solace in the pack is a very healthy way of coping for a lycanthrope." Deaton crossed his arms. "And how is your mood?" 

"Well this morning I learned that 'we're out of cheese' actually means 'we need to age it for a few weeks'. So there's that." 

Deaton wasn't swayed. 

"Any thoughts about hurting yourself?" 

Stiles was tempted to deflect that too, but he knew why Deaton was asking.

"No." 

Deaton nodded, looking at him critically. He supposed he should feel comforted that Deaton was checking to see if he was lying. He just felt nervous.

"How do I know you all aren't lying to _me_  to scare me out of trying to leave?" Stiles wondered, crossing his arms skeptically. "That's my real question. I'd like proof of some kind. Derek wants me to make up my mind about the rest of my life in the next two weeks, so."

"We have plenty of proof." Deaton darkened. "It's called real life experience. If you want witness statements, you can talk to Isaac, Ethan, or Aiden. Any lycanthrope that spends time off territory or who works with humans can tell you stories, but theirs are the most recently disturbing. Deucalion has a particularly grizzly history, if you need to hear it. I was a young doctor when he came to us and it's still the worst I've seen." 

"I've heard from Isaac," Stiles said, staring at his knees. "Not the others."

"I'm sorry if you don't believe Derek, but it's not the kind of thing you want to see for yourself," Deaton said brusquely. "You'd be wise in this case to accept secondhand information as proof enough."

The truth was that he'd feel better only when he could talk to his dad, who would have to know about this as law enforcement. His dad had hinted at "transitions gone wrong" in his letter, but Stiles needed to confirm that's what he really meant before he could be convinced. He'd written it in his next letter to his father and was hoping to hear back before Derek came to him for a decision.

"What about you?" 

Deaton set his tools down and leaned against the counter. 

"I see my human family once a year now. Other than that, I stay on pack territory except for medical necessities. I prefer it that way. In the human world, I've been called names on the street. I've been cornered by a gang of hunters and barely fought my way out. My family has also been a target for hunters, as most lycanthropes here can attest to. I've seen enough trauma through the young werewolves I mentor to know that it's very real. And very unfair, Stiles, that this is the way things have to be."

"Maybe they don't." Stiles frowned. "Maybe if people understood werewolves more --" 

"Unfortunately, understanding us tends to make people even more scared of us. We're fairly intimidating. It's been tried," Deaton shook his head. "I'll see if I can get you some history books." 

"Oh my god, yes." Stiles begged. "Books. Information. Research. Please give it all to me." 

Deaton chuckled and picked his tiny flashlight up again. 

"Shift for me." 

Deaton shined the light in Stiles's eyes again. 

"Still silver. Very unusual." Deaton clucked in the back of his throat. "I was hoping they might change to gold with time... however, by now your body has made all the adjustments it's going to make." Deaton leaned back. "I'll find the books, but they're only available to you after the second month, when you and Derek have spoken again." 

Stiles slumped. Of course there was a catch. 

"You look healthy." Deaton clicked his flashlight off and stepped back to let Stiles hop off the table. "Please, tell me if there's anything you need from me, Stiles, or if you start to feel things the pack piles can't cure," Deaton said gravely. "I'm always here for you to talk to."

* * *

Stiles had thus far been too embarrassed to go with Scott in the early morning to bathe in the lake and had stuck to his shower routine. There were boundaries. Naked boundaries. Of course he'd seen Scott naked in the locker room throughout high school, but there would be other people there.  

"It's kind of gender-based," Scott explained to him while sitting in bed one morning trying to convince Stiles to walk down with him. "Guys generally stay to one side of the lake and girls go to the other. Then there's two other sides for people who want more privacy, or families who bathe together, though you have to walk more to get to them. You can't see anything, really. But it's not a big deal, I swear. Lycanthropes are way less uptight about nudity than humans are."

"The people who hate shoes and grow their own food aren't uptight about nudity. Shocking." 

"Ok, come on." Scott pulled him up. "You'll try it and you'll like it. Just like the pack pile. Up."

"What if Derek's there?" Stiles moaned, resisting. "Naked stalking him would be new levels of embarrassing, Scotty. And I've reached some high points." 

"Derek's never there because he's always off doing FBI things. Come on." 

So Stiles trudged reluctantly down the path to the lake at ass-o'clock in the morning. The sun wasn't even really up. Stiles's hair was a mess. He had sleep in his eyes that he couldn't quite get out when he rubbed at it. Also, Scott was _singing_ and no one had a right to be so cheerful at this hour.

"Ok, so that way to the girl's side, and this way to our side. Come on." Scott pulled him to the left as the trail branched and Stiles tried not to smack him for how happy he sounded. 

As soon as the lake came into view, Scott was stripping his shirt and boxers off and streaking unabashedly down the sand and rock beach into the water. Stiles squinted at him and the few other bodies he could see in the water and sighed as he started laboriously pulling off his shirt. 

He froze with his face half way through the neck hole when he noticed Derek emerge from under the water, running a hand through his wet hair. He was scrubbing at his hair with what looked like more of that handmade soap Scott had in their bathroom. His arms were truly unfair, as was his chest, and his back. Really, his everything. Unfair. 

And Stiles was still stuck with his face halfway through the hole. 

"Come on, Stiles!" Scott yelled, bringing everyone's attention over to him. Stiles met Derek's eyes briefly as the lycanthrope noticed him. Derek's mouth ticked up in greeting before he refocused on scrubbing at his chest with the soap. 

Stiles did his best not to panic as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and, excruciatingly slowly, walked into the water. 

"You lying liar," Stiles hissed once he got close enough to Scott, looking pointedly in Derek's direction. 

"I didn't lie. We just got really unlucky." Scott cringed.

Derek was coming their way. Naked Derek. Naked Derek was coming their way and then he stopped mere feet in front of Stiles. The water just barely came up past his stupidly perfect stomach. 

"Stiles, you're here," Derek stated, glancing down his body like it was no big deal, like it didn't have Stiles's entire face heating up.

"Here I am," Stiles repeated stupidly, resisting the impulse to sink chin-deep into the water and hide his pale, mole-covered torso. Derek was even prettier up close, his skin glistening with drops of water. "Pretty" was actually an understatement of epic proportions.

"Not many new lycanthropes come here at first. Scott didn't start coming until near the end of his first year here." 

"Did he now?" Stiles turned an accusatory look on Scott. 

"My mentor was Erica. So. It was different. She kept telling me there were morning orgies," Scott pointed out. 

"Thank you for trying our way, even if it's different from what you're used to." Derek handed him his bar of soap. Stiles hesitantly took it from him, wondering if receiving soap from your alpha was an important communal bathing gesture. Scott beamed at him, so probably. 

"I'll see you in a few weeks, if I don't see you here before that," Derek said, nodding politely to Scott before turning and wading out of the water. 

Stiles absolutely did not watch as Derek walked naked back to his clothes and dried off with a small blue towel. He did not. Nope. 

Maybe Stiles could get used to this whole public bathing thing.

 


	6. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is as chipper as I get, so enjoy... while it lasts.
> 
> I'm still way behind on answering comments, but again, I really appreciate and read them!

When Stiles got his next letter from his dad, he was exhausted from kitchen duty with Isaac and ready for a two day nap. The sight of Scott with the folded paper tight in his hand rejuvenated him and he sped into his room to open it on his bed. 

Soon his heart was sinking. His dad confirmed what Derek had said, citing multiple occasions when the force had encountered the dead bodies of new lycanthropes unearthed in some gruesome way, or broken up domestic violence calls involving visiting werewolves and friends or family, or worked with the lycanthrope pack to track down kidnapped or lost kids. He'd been on the force for over twenty years, and said he was more familiar with Derek's mother, Talia, than Derek. He also confirmed that he'd been in consistent contact with Deaton and Derek and reiterated that Stiles stay put. Stiles had about thirty escape plans at this point, but the echo of his father's voice in his head had been the most important staying force. He smelled the letter and carefully tucked it into his desk drawer, feeling blue. 

He did his best to get to know as many lycanthropes as he could in the meantime, searching for anyone he couldn't stand. He started knocking on doors in the evening, coming up with excuses to learn people's names and come into their homes. He played video games with the twins for almost two days straight, which felt good. The Google worker was a middle-aged redhead with a wicked, nerdy sense of humor to match Stiles's own (she told Stiles to come back after the two month mark for some really good stuff). He didn't much care for Jennifer, the historian, but he salivated over her book collection (so _here_ was the library, hidden away in someone's home). Jennifer reinforced what Deaton had said, that most lycanthropy books were off-limits until the two month waiting period was over, which. Boo. Big time. She kicked Stiles out when he tried to surreptitiously sneak a little book under his shirt. Deucalion was gruff and a little crazy, but even he was tolerable. 

By the time Erica and Scott poked their head in the door to tell Stiles what he already knew, that Derek was waiting for him at the door, Stiles had devoted long hours to moping over his supposed "choices". He still felt barely prepared to answer Derek when they started walking toward the woods again. 

They didn't walk as far this time, headed toward the lake instead of territory boundaries. Derek sat him down on what looked like a large block of obsidian, shiny under Stiles's fingertips. They dipped their toes in the lake and Derek looked expectantly at Stiles. 

Stiles cleared his throat, feeling more than a little overwhelmed, and Derek was sitting too far away to calm him with his scent. It was probably intentional, so Stiles wouldn't feel like his decision was influenced by the alpha's pheromones.

"So, what are my choices?" 

Derek's eyes clouded over and he looked down immediately. 

"I just want to know for knowledge's sake. I'm not saying, you know, that I want to pick them," Stiles clarified quickly. It didn't seem to help much and Stiles got the feeling that he'd just offended and hurt the alpha.   

Derek didn't look at him as he explained them in an even, neutral tone.  

"The most promising option would be to transfer to another pack. That would mean longer traveling time to see your dad and, consequentially, fewer visitations. No more than once a month." Derek paused, sighing. "The... other option is to live undocumented in the human world. That would mean foregoing your ties to the pack and signing away your citizenship and everything that comes with it. Once you do this, you cannot rejoin us or join any other legal pack. You are over eighteen, so you can legally make that decision. You also agree to any punishment the human world sees fit to charge you with in the event that you hurt someone, with the understanding that we cannot and will not interfere. The dangers I explained last time we talked are... worth considering before making such a decision. Lycanthropes that make this decision are subject to intense scrutiny and often harassment by the human government, as they are viewed as a threat. I would advise you, if you're considering that, to take more time and discuss with the elders in detail." 

"Hm." Stiles had figured it was nothing good, but he was curious, as usual. He leaned back on the rock they were sitting on, dangling his toes in the water. Derek waited for him in silence, barely moving. 

"You guys have done some... seriously questionable things with me since I got here. I especially didn't appreciate the radio silence when I was on house arrest." Stiles glared at Derek, who met his look fearlessly. He obviously still thought he'd made the right call there. "It's clear to me that you value the collective pack rights more than individual rights." 

Derek narrowed his eyes and a slight frown touched his lips. 

"Yes. Pack comes first. I understand that American humans have different priorities." 

"Yeah, basically. We're all about rugged individualism, staking our own claim, etc. So at first, I only saw the downsides to your way of doing things. Namely, I felt pretty violated and pissed off. But... I've come to see the benefits," Stiles continued, watching the ripples in the water where his feet were submerged. "Everyone feels very close. Even if people aren't friends here necessarily, they trust each other as pack mates. I heard people with human jobs give well over half their income to the pack fund, which is how everyone can afford to maintain and update things that need to come from the human world. Sally told me your job in particular is what secures a lot of our benefits with the human government, like sewage and electricity. Everyone seems cool with sharing, a lot more so than in the human world, where people really live their own segregated lives and largely only share like this inside families. I mean, since I got here, no one's put pressure on me to pay for anything - rent, food, amenities. It's a little unreal. And people really work hard to make stuff around here, like Isaac in the kitchen. But it all seems to be taken care of with just the expectation that I'll eventually find a job I like that will benefit the pack and work hard for them too. I mean, Sally's baked me at least a hundred dollars worth of cookies and never asked for anything in return."

Derek nodded, confirming that. He was watching Stiles closely. 

"There's no one here I really hate, and I've been looking." Stiles swallowed. "And I honestly still don't know how well I'm going to fit in here, or even if I can readjust myself to the way you prioritize pack over everything. That's the most foreign part about being here. But I think... with the understanding that I'm still going to be skeptical and uncomfortable sometimes, I think I'm willing to try to live like this." 

Derek smiled, and it was kind of breathtaking, honestly. Derek shifted closer faster than Stiles could see to bump his shoulder against Stiles's shoulder and scent mark him affectionately. Stiles blushed again at the combination of what Derek looked like and what Derek freaking smelled like, his body lighting up in almost uncomfortably arousing ways. 

"I'm really glad, Stiles," Derek said warmly. It was almost a purr. Stiles stared at his feet instead of Derek for fear that something really embarrassing might just pop out of his mouth. 

"After today you'll have access to everything your other pack members do," Derek started lowly, still sounding immensely pleased. "Our history, technology, and full reign of the territory. You'll start to learn our strengths and weaknesses, so we're trusting you not to run now." Derek looked pointedly at Stiles. "Which I'm sure you've figured out." 

"Like a million different ways." Stiles grinned at him, feeling a little giddy with how happy Derek looked. Over him. Stiles. Derek was excited to have Stiles, himself, in the pack. 

"Well, please don't share them with me," Derek said, almost fondly. "Since you're over eighteen, no more supervision, though I get the feeling that you and Scott won't see less of each other." 

"Probably not." Stiles agreed. 

"While there's no more formal supervision except on visitation, I encourage you to spend as much time as possible with pack members while you're still learning how to live here. They will be your teachers for many important things."

Derek paused again.

"This freedom also comes with expectations. The first is that you keep to the most important rule that I explained to you before -- pack life stays pack life. That means there are many things you can't discuss even with your father." 

"I know," Stiles said. "That... honestly really sucks." 

"I can imagine," Derek agreed, sobering a little. 

"What happens if I break that rule?" Stiles asked. Derek looked at him sharply. "I'm just curious, dude. I'm not planning on it. But, like, there's got to be grey areas of what you would consider pack life and what I consider pack life." 

"If a human might find it weird, keep it to yourself," Derek clarified dryly. 

"That's actually pretty clear cut," Stiles laughed. Derek smiled in return and Stiles felt that same thrill of excitement.

"The next is that you don't leave pack territory without permission. This means scheduled visitation and, in the future if you have a human job, that you stick to a schedule that the elders approve and the human government knows about." 

"But I do get to leave now?" Stiles asked.

"After three months here, you'll have access to regular visitation. It will still be scheduled, but you will be able to leave. You can also request special days out, like birthdays or holidays, but they will have to replace other visitation days rather than adding to overall time spent outside territory. These requests go through the elders, not me," Derek answered. 

"Ok, what else?" Stiles wondered. 

"You have an obligation to mentor the next lycanthrope we bring in, with Deaton's help. You have to follow the same schedule we've set out for you -- one month to adjust, one month with knowledge of the outside, and one month as pack before visitation. You leave it to me to counsel them on these important matters and do not break pack confidence with them. This can be difficult, as you've experience, as people are often confused and angry when they first come. It's an important job." 

"Ok," Stiles agreed, a little uneasy at the thought of doing this all over again with someone else. 

"You will eventually be able to move to your own house, if you desire. You also have the pack's blessing to choose a mate."

"Mate?'

"A life partner, yes," Derek clarified, sounding patient. 

"Like... who?" 

"Like, whoever wants to be," Derek stared at him like he couldn't believe Stiles had asked that question. "Not everyone seeks a mate, though. Maria has never taken a mate, and she's on the elder council now." 

"Ok. I. Ok." Stiles felt oddly flustered. He hadn't even thought about the werewolf equivalent of marriage.

"Anyone you're thinking of approaching? I know it's still early." Derek wondered, sounding mildly curious. 

"Uh, you." 

Derek stared at him. Stiles realized what had come out of his mouth a minute too late. 

"I mean... actually. Yeah." Because why not. No way he could take that back really, and honestly it was already pretty obvious. And Derek had the _balls_ to ask. "Who else? Erica's like a sister to me. Scott's my main man. Kira's Scott's girlfriend... or pre-mate, whatever you call it? I don't know, I'm new. Anyway, Boyd scares the shit out of me. Isaac and I barely manage to be friends. That's pretty much everyone my age. I guess the twins, but they're definitely more than fifteen years older than me, and that would be seriously stretching things. Derek, I thought I was pretty... obvious. I announced it like two weeks in, dude. Remember our horribly awkward trial?" 

Derek looked at him silently, unreadable as Stiles trailed off in his rambling. Stiles was suddenly extremely aware that they were sitting very close together and Derek's happy, super relaxing pheromones definitely had a part in his easy reveal.

"Do you already have a mate? Shit." 

Derek was very slow to answer, looking down at the water. When he did speak, it sounded careful. 

"My life is dedicated to the pack." 

"So you don't date." Stiles tried not to let that completely depress him. 

Derek glanced at him, a sharp look on his face before it got pushed down into something neutral again. 

"I don't... the human word 'dating' would not apply to me, no. I will eventually take a mate and hope that I, or a pack member, will pass on the alpha trait so that I may be easily replaced when I pass. But my partner has to be... committed... to what I'm committed to: the pack. For me, it's a very serious decision, as they would share many of my responsibilities. From what you've just told me, you're still just adjusting to pack life. You aren't ready for that kind of responsibility." Derek paused, glancing at Stiles. He didn't look upset or even flustered. "We would not be a good fit right now."

Stiles nodded, his face burning. 

Derek breezed past it pretty easily and finished his list of expectations -- namely, that Stiles would eventually settle on a job in or out of the pack and contribute part of his earnings to the pack fund. Stiles didn't know how he could just keep talking normally after so easily shutting him down. 

"What about occupations? Anything of interest?" 

"Deaton really wants me to be pack doctor. I think I'd have to seriously work on my bedside manner." 

Derek smiled. 

"Deaton has to work on it too." 

"I'm telling him you said that." 

Derek smile turned into a grin as he relaxed back and tilted his chin up at the sky. Stiles looked up too. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, the air crisp and the birds chirping. And Derek was sitting next to him, smelling like that, looking like _that_. Shutting him down without even hurting his feelings. Things weren't too bad. 

He walked into his house to a party. There were at least twenty werewolves crammed into their tiny cabin, and what looked like a keg sitting on their counter. But it couldn't be a keg... because lycanthropes didn't get drunk. But other than the strangely rustic wood cups everyone was drinking from, it could have been a house party from when he was a high school student. 

"Uh, hello?" 

"You said yes, right?" Scott was jumping excitedly right in front of him. Twenty pairs of werewolf eyes were on him, expectant. 

"...yes?" 

A big cheer broke out and he was suddenly swarmed by pack. Derek was grinning and leaning against their doorframe, far enough behind that Stiles couldn't smell him anymore. By the time everyone had scented him and scent marked him, he was a hotbed of pack pheromones and he felt a little better. Even Boyd scent marked him, smiling. Erica shoved a cup into his hands and kissed his cheek. 

"This is what you've been waiting for: werewolf beer!" 

"What?" Stiles started grinning. "You shitting me?" 

"I'm _not_ shitting you, for once." Erica beamed. "This is how we get drunk. It's spiked with wolfsbane. It'll make you feel like a weak kitten." 

"O...k." Stiles laughed at her bubbly excitement. The pack energy was contagious. And someone had music going from somewhere, like EDM music. It was almost... normal. Human normal, anyway. Stiles took a tentative sip and grinned big because it tasted way better than beer -- sort of sweet, nutty, and natural, like everything the lycanthropes made.

" _This_ is what we were growing in that field," Isaac was next to him, smiling. He swung an arm over Stiles's shoulder and scented him. "Welcome to the pack, brother." 

"Oh." The way Isaac said "brother", it didn't sound like slang -- it sounded like an actual familial sentiment. "Back at you," Stiles tried, feeling a little overwhelmed at all the attention and affection. 

He talked to literally everyone he'd had a relationship with so far. Sally was there talking to Maria. Kali had come too, and she was eager to explain werewolf herbology and martial arts to him. The Google employee whose name he still couldn't remember but who he'd definitely hit it off with scented him with a big smile and invited him over the next day to use what she called the "werewolf webs", which Stiles was incredibly interested in learning more about. The twins were there, too, and they crushed him between them and scented him from both sides at once. They didn't have anything interesting to share with him, but also invited him to play video games again sometime soon. 

Everyone was eager to spill their secrets, and Stiles got the sense that it had taken a lot of effort not to leak before that. While Stiles liked talking and he loved hearing new information about the pack, he wasn't a talk-to-everyone-at-once kind of person. Eventually he got overwhelmed and that's, luckily, when Erica started shooing werewolves out the door. Derek stayed until Boyd left, and Stiles tried not to pine over him too much as he walked out the door. He couldn't help swooning a little as Derek scent marked him again before leaving.

As soon as everyone else had left, Scott and Erica swept him down onto the couch, wrapped him in a blanket, and asked him what happened. _Why_ he said yes. Erica was literally bouncing. 

"So." Stiles looked between them, not knowing where to start. "So... I think I asked out Derek," is what eventually came out. 

Scott's smile froze in place and Erica's grew wider. She looked at Scott for a long moment before she leaned in and took Stiles's face gently in both hands. 

"You are so precious," she said sincerely. "I have never before met anyone who fails this much at so many things." 

"Hey." Stiles wanted to argue, but damn it, it was true. He didn't even have the energy to yank his face out of her hands.

"You did... you did what?" Scott looked completely bewildered. "You... _asked Derek out_? As in the human way? What did you even say?"

"He asked me if I was thinking of approaching anyone to be my mate. And he... his fucking smell, guys. It pulled it out of me." 

"Oh, Stiles." Scott's mouth fell open. "That is _not_ the same." 

Stiles swallowed hard and pushed on.

"So I said him. And then I named all the reasons I didn't want anyone else my age to be my mate." 

"Oh, _Stiles._ " Scott curled in on himself in what looked like excruciating secondhand embarrassment.

Erica fell over laughing, her legs tucked up against her.

" _Help me._ " Stiles pleaded with them. Scott leaned his forehead briefly against Stiles's shoulder like he was gathering all his strength. Erica eventually sat up and caught her breath and leaned against him too. Erica gathered herself before Scott was able. 

"So a mate is not remotely close to dating," Erica started, still a little out of breath.

"A mate is _sacred,_ " Scott interjected, nodding vehemently. 

"And for the record, Derek grew up in the pack. He would only know about 'dating' from watching human movies or reading human books."

"Which would give him a totally horrible impression of what your intentions are."

"Yeah, werewolves more..." 

"I don't even know how to..." 

"It's just so _intense,_ " Erica said, looking stumped. "I wish it wasn't so intense, actually."

Scott snapped his fingers and grinned.

"Think old school. Like, the word 'courting' springs to mind -- love letters, forever bonds. It's super romantic, nothing remotely casual. Remember, we can live to be two hundred years old. It's a pretty important commitment." 

"Yes! Yes, that's the perfect way to describe it. Go back to the eighteen hundreds." 

"I fucking hate the eighteen hundreds," Stiles complained. They ignored him, too focused on each other.

"Yeah, so telling him he's the best choice out of _no choices_ is... a super terrible way to do that." 

"Super terrible," Erica agreed, grinning again. "Just... just your biggest fail so far. And that's an accomplishment." 

"What you were probably thinking more along the lines of was a heat partner." 

"Yes!" Erica agreed enthusiastically. "That can be way more casual. Derek might go for that." 

"Except Stiles doesn't get heats. So he'd have no need for one." Scott pointed out to Erica, as though they were solving Stiles's life together. Erica nodded, looking disappointed. 

"Ok, stop. Break, team," Stiles insisted, his head spinning. "How do I fix this?" 

"It might be your turn to apologize to him," Scott shrugged. "He'll forgive you. Everyone forgives newbies."

"You do fuck up a lot." Erica eyed him fondly. "We're used to it by now."

"How do I explain this in human terms..." Scott looked at Stiles seriously. "Let's say you got drunk and asked your boss to marry you. It's kind of like that." 

Stiles's eyes bugged out of his head. He looked to Erica to confirm. She actually took pity on him. 

"I mean, honestly, Derek's pretty used it by now. Almost every new lycanthrope gets a crush on him. It's like a right of passage. He smells so great, how could you not?" 

"Really?" Stiles's heart was sinking. "So he's... this... happens a lot?" He definitely thought he'd been the odd one out. 

"Well, I don't think anyone's ever _announced it_ quite so boldly and so often. You're also the first I've seen who's been infatuated with him." Erica leaned against him. "It's hard not to fall a little in love with him just from his smell. It's designed to relax us, and being here at first can be so stressful. I mean, Scott's embarrassingly straight and even he had a little crush. I definitely did. We didn't _tell_ him, but it's Derek. He knew. Besides, it goes away as you get used to living here." Scott blushed and shrugged as Stiles looked to him to confirm. 

Stiles felt sort of defeated. He'd thought... 

"He didn't actually say no, really. He said that for him, pack was his responsibility and that his... mate... would have to be willing to help him with those responsibilities." 

"Oh, god, yeah. You could never do what Kira and I do with Derek. Derek's all about responsibility. I mean, his job is important to fulfill the pack contract with the human government. When he's not doing his job, his alpha-ness is crucial to maintaining life here and negotiating with the human world. He spends so much time relaxing other people that I don't think _he_ ever really relaxes. I've heard most alpha's pack pile all the time and I've never seen him there," Scott explained, looking serious. 

"He used to," Erica bit her lip, her eyes going sad. "Before..."

"Oh," Scott said quickly, his eyes going sad too. 

"Derek's right, Stiles. Derek grew up here, and he's been raised with the expectation that he would be alpha. That's everything he knows. Being his mate... would mean giving more to the pack than you're comfortable with right now," Erica said softly, carding a hand through Stiles's hair in comfort. 

"Ok," Stiles agreed, ready for this to be over. "I got it." 

Stiles went to his own bed that night, alone with his thoughts. Out loud, he'd said yes, and he'd been pleasantly surprised by the pack's enthusiasm and affection. But his many escape plans were still catalogued in his head, in order from fastest and most reckless to long-term, semi-safe solutions. Even though now he did feel a little bad about it, he wasn't ready to throw them out. 


	7. The Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on A/B/O: The Teen Wolf A/B/O mythology differs from typical fanfiction A/B/O mythology (that alphas get knots and omegas get heats). I tried to blend them a little bit, so some of the usual rules are wonky -- namely, penis people get knots, uterus people get heats. I'm going to go into the A/B/O relationship deeper in future chapters, but this chapter should answer some major questions.
> 
> Thank you as always for putting down your thoughts :). I'll be taking a two day break in posting to finally catch up on them. Some really interesting ideas and points being made.

Pack life vastly improved. 

Stiles went over to Nela's house (where he finally learned her name) the next day and received a tutorial in the "werewolf webs", which was basically a separate Internet for werewolves. He spent literally all day on one of the pack computers, combing through website upon website: werewolf social network sites (hilarious), werewolf blogs, werewolf-developed technologies, werewolf government sites, werewolf history. It was still barely enough to wet his pallet. 

"So what do you do at Google?" Stiles finally asked Nela while he was taking a snack break from a six hour information binge and bothering her in her home office. Nela spun to face him from her impressive mega-desk -- complete with multiple computer screens -- and knocked her glasses up on her nose. 

"I bury werewolf secrets." She grinned at him. 

"How?" Stiles asked, sitting up straight with interest and licking his spoon clean of applesauce. 

"Usually something pops up based on relevance and a few other factors. Well, we have a privacy clause in our treaty with the human government that allows us to influence information leaked to the human population. Turns out, even though it's one of our strictest rules, werewolves all over the world still break it from time to time and shit gets out. That's where my job comes in. While I can't delete the original post or webpage with lycanthropy-sensitive information, I can bury it, meaning I can put it at the very end of the list of relevant searches. This gets more complicated with things like social media, but still doable. I design and fix the software that that search engines use to find and hide this lycanthropy-sensitive information." 

"Jesus. That's why I couldn't find anything when I was trying to research werewolves in the human world." 

"Basically. I'm a ninja," she agreed proudly. 

Stiles brightened with a thought. 

"Is there werewolf porn?" 

She spun slowly back into her home office and ignored him.

Stiles came back every day for the next week and quietly worked on one of the pack computers. He was fascinated by what he could find on werewolf pheromones and the multitude of different kinds, especially from an alpha to a beta. There were the pack pheromones that werewolves almost always exuded, "infatuation" pheromones between biologically compatible partners, mating pheromones that only exuded between mated pairs, separate pheromones to signal heat and the responding pheromones from the sexual partner, and a whole score of pheromones from the alpha that communicated his feelings to his betas. One of them was a pheromone that broadcast extreme aggression and displeasure -- which is what Stiles guessed had hurt him so much when Derek found him in his bedroom. Lycanthropes relied on scent more than sight or hearing, according to what credible sources Stiles could find, so without pack they felt blinded and lost. Stiles was surprised to learn that pack runs were a way for Derek to essentially scent mark everyone all at once, as his body pumped out extra pheromones for the pack to follow when he ran. 

Stiles still couldn't figure out why his body was picking up on Derek's infatuation pheromones. They were both male, and it was supposed to signal biological compatibility for reproduction -- i.e., producing children. 

More than that, it was in no way fading the way Erica had said it would. If anything, it grew stronger. He was still the first person to notice when Derek walked in a room, he still couldn't scent Derek without ending up on the floor, and Scott now had to physically hold him back from following Derek after the pack run.

He searched for what he could find on same-sex partners and found no other recent instances of infatuation between same-sex mates. It unsettled him somewhat, and finally had him thinking about his eyes and why his body would respond like that. Maybe there was something seriously wrong with him and this was yet another sign. 

He found something on "omegas", which is what werewolves called the undocumented lycanthropes that lived in the human world, cut off from the werewolf world. The global pack government website listed "omegas" as a separate population that they gathered information on, and frighteningly, their life expectancies were less than half of pack werewolves -- 45 years instead of the average 120. Derek wasn't kidding when he said they had a hard time living on their own. 

Also, there was werewolf porn. 

* * *

Stiles spent most of the next month reading the history books Deaton had given him, combing through medical books, and occasionally helping Scott with the animals.

He started going to bathe in the lake every morning at ass-o'clock on the off-chance that he would see Derek. Maybe he wasn't "mate material", but that didn't mean he couldn't pine. He actually saw Derek about once a week, usually on Friday mornings when Derek came back for pack dinner and to lead the pack run. Naked Derek. It was glorious. Plus, Derek always talked to him, even if briefly, and half the time Stiles found a way to get scent marked before he left. 

His visitation day ticked closer until finally Boyd and Isaac knocked on his door and he shot out so fast he knocked Isaac over. 

"Sorry! Let's go." Stiles grinned, helping him up. Isaac sighed and followed silently next to Boyd. They went together to the pack garage where there were easily ten cars parked. Boyd slid into the drivers seat of the familiar grey sedan, and even though Stiles called shotgun Isaac noogied him out of it.

Stiles vibrated in his seat for most of the drive. It was longer than he thought it might be -- they drove for almost an hour before he started to recognize Beacon Hills out his window. 

"That's my high school!" Stiles shouted excitedly, pointing out the window. Isaac glanced at him in the rearview mirror and exchanged a look with Boyd. He finally humored him after thirty seconds of silence.

"Very cool."

Stiles threw the door open when they stopped next to his house. His dad was waiting on the porch. It took everything Stiles had not to speed werewolf-style across the lawn and into his dad's waiting arms, where he was crushed in the longest, best hug of his life. 

"I missed you so fucking much." Stiles squeezed the tears out of his eyes and clutched at his dad's clothes, that familiar scent washing over him. 

"Good to see you haven't changed. Still got that mouth on you." His dad drew back, wiping at his eyes and beaming at Stiles. "Come on inside. I've got curly fries for you. I wasn't kidding, it turns out." 

"You're the actual best, dad." Stiles leaned against his dad and walked into the house, forgetting about the werewolf shadows that followed silently behind them. 

"So, kid, I know the rules: nothing specific. Scott's been reminding me of that whenever he visits," his dad said as they shared the biggest bucket of curly fries Stiles could have asked for and sat on the couch together. "But I actually have some things I've been waiting to tell you." 

"Oh yes. I haven't heard from you in three months." Stiles winked in the direction of the werewolves to remind his dad that they'd been communicating with _secret_ letters. Super secret. "Please fill me in." 

"Well, first you tell me how you like it up there," his dad insisted, smiling at him in a way that looked a little sad. 

"It's... I don't know." Stiles struggled to think of something to say that he hadn't already gushed about in his letters. "I asked out Derek." 

"Really?" His dad frowned. "What did he say?" 

"He said no." 

His dad nodded quietly. Stiles felt the biggest wave of affection for his dad at that nonjudgemental reaction.

"So how's everything else?"

"Actually pretty ok. At first it was the worst, like worse than when Scott left me behind senior year --" 

"Yeah, that was tough on you." 

"But now I think I kind of like it. It's weird. I thought Scott was lying for sure when he said that, but it's weird how quickly you get used to it when you're surrounded by..." He was thinking of all the pack pheromones, but he changed that to, "other werewolves." 

"I had a feeling." His dad took his hand and squeezed, taking a big breath and letting it out slowly. "I was so sure you were going to run. I was terrified." 

"Why?" Stiles found himself asking. He knew the general answer, but his dad looked like he was thinking of something painfully specific. 

"Those people... the people Derek warned me about. They've been in contact with me. They're no joke."

"So I've heard," Stiles admitted. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"The mailman," his dad jerked his chin angrily at the door, "started talking to me one day. Real friendly. Said he hadn't seen you around lately and wanted to know what happened. Except... I'd never seen him before. He was a new mailman, started right after you disappeared." 

"Shit." Stiles shivered at how unbelievably... creepy that was. "They could be anyone. Really."

"That's why you need to stay safe, ok?" His dad frowned at him and cupped his face in his weathered hands. "Promise me." 

"Yeah, ok, dad," Stiles promised softly. 

"Ok." His dad took another deep breath that seemed to steady him. "Ok, well. I have some... news to share with you." 

"You do?" Stiles perked up. His dad never announced his "news", he just said it. 

"After you left, I started to see Melissa more and more. At first we just helped each other out, parent to parent, but now..." 

"Oh my god. You're dating her. You're _dating_ Melissa." 

"...Yes," his dad said, chewing the inside of his cheek and looking wary. 

"Oh my god." Stiles put a hand to his chest as happiness surged through him unexpectedly. "Oh, dad, that's perfect. I'm _so glad_. Yes. Please get married and live together. Like now. Please. Then Scott and I could stagger our visitations and visit once a week and come home together for Christmas. This is perfect." 

"Ok, slow down, we've only been dating for a month," John laughed, looking considerably more relaxed. "You're ok with this? I figured it might be kind of... weird for you and Scott. I know I haven't dated much since your mom passed away. Or, at all." 

"No." Stiles vigorously shook his head. "No, please. Do what makes you happy. Scott and I give full support. I don't even need to ask him, I just know we'd both be so happy if we knew you guys were happy." And taking care of each other, Stiles silently added to himself. 

"Ok, ok." His dad waved a hand at him, looking embarrassed now. "I get the picture. Glad to hear it, kid."

After that, Isaac and Boyd trailed them as they went to the arcade and ate at Stiles's favorite mexican restaurant together. He caught people staring at his eyes more than once, and one family sat down next to them at the restaurant and then found something wrong with their table and asked the waiter to move after Stiles heard the mother whisper in the father's ear "It's one of them." Stiles ignored them and focused on his dad, though, because even bigots couldn't ruin his first visitation day.

The end of the day came way too soon and then Stiles was crying again as he hugged his father close, wishing he didn't have to let go. 

"I'll see you next month." 

"I think I can send you letters now. Scott sent some to Melissa, especially at the beginning, and I have my phone back so I can sometimes send texts and stuff when we have service. But we never do." Stiles wiped at his eyes, wishing he could hold it together a little better. His dad's eyes were shining too. "When six months are up I can come see you twice a month. Assuming the mailman doesn't kill me." 

"Don't joke about that," his dad said seriously. "I'll keep an eye out for you, kiddo." 

Stiles hugged him again, trying to keep his new werewolf strength gentle despite the storm of emotions in his chest. He climbed back in the car with Isaac and Boyd and held back his misery until he was able to throw himself on his bed at home. 

Seeing his father loosened up his insides considerably. After that, Stiles spent a lot of time seriously considering what kind of job he wanted to do in the pack. It seemed more real and possible to consider staying on pack territory now that there was a chance his dad wouldn't be alone, that he would have someone as a companion, and someone as great as Melissa, to boot. 

* * *

It was almost another month later that Stiles woke up in the middle of the night with chills. Since he became a werewolf with the metabolism of the sun, cold had become somewhat of a foreign concept to him. He sat up in bed and rubbed a hand along his forehead only to find he was covered in a cold sweat, too. 

Frowning at his damp hand, Stiles swung his legs out of bed and pulled on one of the few sweatshirts he'd brought with him from his second visitation with his dad, when they went through the rest of his stuff. His desk was now covered in superhero knick knacks and a variety of books, both human and werewolf in origin. It felt more like home. 

Stiles felt even colder when he started the walk to the pack pile, shivering and pulling his sweater closer to his body. He checked his phone to confirm what he already knew -- that tonight was no colder than any other night that he'd been on pack territory. His body didn't seem to care about that. Scott had said they didn't get human colds, but Stiles wondered if maybe he was getting the werewolf equivalent. Either way, he was freezing and the pack pile would have people to keep him warm. He could only hope he wasn't contagious.

The moment he opened the door to the Main House, though, his head started to swim, Derek's scent powerful and commanding. He froze in the dark and quiet hall, a familiar sense of deja vu immediately followed by the echo of terror from when Derek had reacted to his intrusion. His chest ached and his eyes watered as desire shuddered through him. He needed to get somewhere warm, but his body wouldn't move away from that smell. 

Stiles stared at the doors to the pack pile and willed himself to step in that direction. His feet took him the other way, toward Derek's home. He wrapped his arms around his body and managed to stop himself outside Derek's door. He stood there shaking, his teeth starting to chatter, staring at the door and forcing himself not to open it. The scent of Derek seemed to seep into his skin and scramble his thoughts into nothing but instinct, a confusing mixture of longing and fear. 

Eventually Stiles sank to the ground, fighting with himself. A sound of frustration escaped his lips, a soft groan. He hid his head in his arms and willed his body to calm down, to stop trembling, but now he was even closer to the source of the smell and it was all he could think about, his mouth watering at just the abstract thought of it. It was deeper over here, more heady, the undercurrent of arousal overcoming the relaxing qualities.

Stiles was still curled in on himself in front of the door when he heard it open. Derek stood in the entryway, looking down at Stiles, his hair messy with sleep. His eyes were sharp, though, and awake as he took in Stiles slumped on the floor, staring up at him pathetically and blinking tears from his eyes.

Derek sank to his knees in front of Stiles and opened his arms. Stiles immediately crawled into them, collapsing into the warm, overpowering scent of the alpha with a relieved gasp. Derek's hand soothed over his back, pausing against the exposed skin on his neck and then moving to his forehead as though he were checking his temperature. He lifted him easily from the ground, strong arms coming under his knees to cradle him against his chest. Stiles could do nothing but bury his nose in Derek's neck, so eager for the source of that smell. It was too much, though, and Stiles passed out almost as soon as he pressed in close. 

When he woke up again, it was to some combination of heaven and hell. Derek's scent was everywhere, warm and delicious and powerful enough to dull his senses and introduce a pleasant haze to his thoughts, but his body still trembled with insatiable cold. He twisted and pulled the blankets over himself, lost in the conflicting sensation warring through him. He slit his eyes open to figure out where he was, and he recognized with a jolt the inside of Derek's bedroom. It took him another minute to realize it was Derek's bed that he was tangled up on now -- sweating and shaking against Derek's sheets and Derek's pillows. 

There was no one in the room with him, but if he concentrated, which was difficult in such a scent-infused environment, he could hear people talking in the living room. It sounded like... Deaton... and Derek.

"... what does that mean?" Derek was asking, his voice quiet and barely audible through the closed door.

"I'm running tests right now. It may be..."

"No." 

"It's my best guess, at this point. Just keep him comfortable. He came to you, Derek. I can't knock him out with his body temperature so low, and I can't do anything for him with drugs that your scent won't do better."

"Will it be enough?" 

"He's very sensitive to you. I believe so."

Fear fought its way through the pleasing haze of Derek's scent and Stiles struggled to sit up, to call out to tell them that he could hear them and they better tell him now. His arms shook as he pushed his body up and the world tilted. Stiles collapsed back onto the bed. 

The door opened. Then the bed dipped with weight and Derek's scent intensified. Stiles blinked up at Derek's serious face, hovering above him.

"How do you feel?" Derek's voice was low and calming. 

"Like shit," Stiles answered, still woozy. "What the fuck are you guys talking about?" 

"Deaton wants you to sleep here with me tonight," Derek said.  

"That's not it." 

"Is that ok?" 

Stiles turned his head, frustrated that Derek dodged the question. Any other day, he would kill to sleep next to Derek. He'd had many such fantasies, actually -- none of them where he was this sick. He felt Derek slip under the covers and press closer to him. His warmth was so electric that Stiles found himself pressing back until he was flattened against the hard planes of Derek's form. Derek curled his arms around Stiles to hold him and the seemingly impenetrable cold in his body lessened to a bearable chill. Stiles passed out again as he pressed his nose into Derek's chest.

The night passed uncomfortably in waves of Derek's scent and chills. He would barely surface from the strange fog, shaking awake, only for Derek to pull him closer again and black out his vision. It was both warm and cold, and he couldn't think past the confusing mix. 

* * *

When he finally woke up feeling a little better, his shaking had subsided to something manageable. Derek wasn't in the room with him anymore. Stiles was able to sit up and lean against the wood bed frame to look around. Derek's bed was larger than his own, and his sheets were made of some fine material. Stiles could smell his own cold sweat on them now and he immediately felt bad for pushing himself on the alpha, who notoriously got no rest, and making him care for him while he was sick. 

If he listened, he could hear Derek in the living room, making something on the stove. Stiles inhaled deeply and his mind swam pleasantly with _Derek,_  as well as eggs and bacon. His guilt grew and he gathered the top blanket around him like a shawl and tried standing up. His legs felt weak but they didn't buckle under him as he made his way to the door, which he counted as a success. 

When he entered the living room, he found Derek paused next to the stove, waiting for him to come through. Stiles immediately looked down under the alpha's worried eyes. 

"I'm really sorry," Stiles said immediately. 

"It's good that you came to me." The alpha dismissed his apology with a wave. "Go back to bed. I'll bring you something to eat." 

"I can help you," Stiles tried. 

"Bed." Derek lifted one eyebrow, his tone expectant.

"What about Deaton?" Stiles asked immediately. "I heard him here last night."

"He's trying to figure out why you were sick." Derek looked back at the food he was cooking. "He'll be by this morning after you've eaten." 

"I heard you talking last night." 

Derek huffed with irritation. The next second he was next to Stiles, manhandling him back through the door. Stiles went (because he had no choice) and soon Derek had him tucked under more covers, checking his temperature with a hand to his forehead. Derek's palm on his face felt hot, almost scorching, and Stiles felt a little breathless at the alpha's pale eyes combing over him with such worry, his beautiful face so close.

"It sounded bad. Whatever you thought I had." 

Derek's expression tweaked with frustration. 

"Are you capable of being patient for _anything_?" he asked, exasperated. "I'm not a doctor, Stiles. Just rest. Let Deaton explain this to you."

"Fine," Stiles said petulantly. "You guys have too many secrets." 

"Not from you." Derek sighed, looking tired. Stiles immediately felt bad again. "Not anymore. Now _stay_." 

Derek left him. Stiles reluctantly sank back down in the sheets, enjoying the smell of Derek all around him and drifting into a restless, dreamless sleep. Derek woke him once to feed him and then insisted he take another nap until Deaton came by. 

When he woke again, he could hear Derek and Deaton talking outside the door in hushed voices. 

"I don't know how they could have gotten it. You need to be more careful." 

"I am. I don't... this shouldn't be possible." 

"It is. There's no doubt about it. It's conclusive." 

Stiles had had enough at that point. He sat up too quickly and had to wait for the rush of dizziness to subside before he could pull the blankets around his still quivering body and make his way over to the door. Derek opened it for him when he got there, his eyes dark and hooded and strange. 

"What?" 

"Come." He gestured at the couch. Stiles sank down into it and covered his cold legs with Derek's blanket. He wrapped his arms around his middle, now queasy with unease in addition to shivering with cold. 

"How are you feeling, Stiles?" Deaton asked gently. He sat down on one side of the couch, his hands in his lap. He looked far too composed, like a real doctor -- not like the Deaton Stiles had come to know in the past few months. 

"Oh god." Stiles looked from Derek's stormy expression to Deaton's too-composed one and reached a string of terrible conclusions. "I'm dying, aren't I?" 

Derek's expression didn't budge, but Deaton let a reluctant smile through. 

  
"You're not dying," Deaton assured him softly. "You've had a pre-heat." 

Stiles blinked at him, confused. 

"Like... like, heat, what girl werewolves get?" 

"It seems so. Derek can smell it clearly on you." 

"You shitting me?" Stiles looked at Derek for confirmation. Derek nodded sharply. He looked incredibly tense, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression still stormy. Stiles did not think that was a good sign.

"This wasn't a full heat. Your body shouldn't be equipped for a full heat, but it mimicked the symptoms of the first mild heat female werewolves get when they go through puberty. They're usually quite unpleasant. But I think this was a symptom of something else, like the color of your eyes."

 "Excuse me, _mild_? Also, it wasn't very _hot_. I was freezing. Still am." Stiles gaped at him. "Symptom of what?" 

"Heat refers to needing heat, not producing it. Heat brings a lycanthrope's temperature down to that of a normal human so procreation can occur." 

Deaton took a careful breath, looking at Derek before looking back at Stiles. 

"I ran some tests on your body fluids, looking for abnormalities in your pheromones. I was able to match certain markers definitively to Derek's own pheromones." 

"Ok." Stiles blinked at him. "That means nothing to me. So Derek's... inside me. So what?" He was tempted to crack a joke, but they both still looked too serious for that and it made Stiles nervous.

"Yes." Deaton glanced at Derek, who looked down at the ground, his jaw clenching. "His markers are on your pheromones. And they could not have gotten there naturally." 

"This still means nothing to me," Stiles said, frustrated. "What are you trying to tell me, Deaton? Just say it." 

"The organization that I told you about, the one that's been in contact with Melissa and your father," Derek sounded as tense as he looked, "they've been looking for a way into our territory. One of those ways is to create their own werewolves and send them through to attack us from the inside, the way Kate did." 

Stiles processed what he was saying way too slowly. 

"I'm not a part of that organization," Stiles asserted as he realized what they were accusing. 

"We know." Deaton stopped him quickly with a hand on his arm.

"You're no assassin, Stiles. That much is clear," Derek said gruffly. 

"But they may have... experimented on you." 

"They would want to test it on others before they used it on themselves," Derek said, looking at the ground. Now Stiles knew what the tension was in his body: anger. "They likely labeled you a werewolf sympathizer after Scott changed, and that's nearly as bad as being a werewolf in their eyes." 

Deaton leaned in, his hand tightening on Stiles's arm. 

"Are you missing any time from the last year? Did you ever wake up without knowing how you fell asleep?" 

Stiles looked between them, his mind whirling. 

"No. No, nothing like that. Nothing that stands out." His heart was hammering. "Are you telling me..." 

"You are not a natural lycanthrope, Stiles. Something synthetic happened in your body to make you like this, and... this pre-heat may be the first of the side effects."

"So." Stiles bit his lip. "I'm a frankenstein. And whatever made me like this isn't working."

"You are a real lycanthrope, now." Deaton looked concerned at Stiles's despair. "You're just an unusual one." 

"You're pack," Derek bit out, looking fierce. "Nothing will change that. It doesn't matter to me." Stiles took a moment to appreciate how angry Derek looked about that.

"Yeah, but. More stuff could go wrong, right? I could get sicker?" Stiles asked at the sudden thought.

Derek glanced at Deaton and looked down. Deaton took a deep breath before answering. 

"Whatever they used to activate the change in you, it came from Derek originally. It's his markers on your own pheromones. My best guess is that the alpha pheromones are too much for your own system and they are causing unusual side effects, like this pre-heat. It is also likely why your eyes are different. Another problem could be that you changed so late -- your body is more susceptible to the change as a young teenager, and you were a late teenager when you changed. We're going to keep an eye on you for now to look for any other problems, and I don't want you to hesitate to come to me or Derek if something strange happens. I might run some more tests from time to time to make sure everything is running fine."

Stiles leaned back, fear and anger coursing through him. 

"How could they have done this if I don't remember it?" he asked. 

"It may have been very subtle, possibly administered in a gaseous form if there's no missing time for you. I can't really say what happened without knowing more about the substance used on you." 

A stronger tremor ran through Stiles and he pulled the blankets tighter around him. Derek's eyes flared with worry and he sat next to Stiles to ease him under his arm, pressing Stiles's face to his chest and tucking Stiles's head under his chin. Derek's relaxing scent and comforting warmth calmed Stiles considerably. 

"My dad," Stiles mumbled, still processing all the terrible possibilities. "Is he in danger because of this?" 

"I doubt they have long-term plans to create successful werewolves," Deaton said. "The fact that you were passable enough to make it here will likely be enough for them. I don't think they'll try to get you back for further testing, so there would be no need beyond the usual to antagonize your father." 

"God." Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his breathing. He suddenly hated the subtle tremors in his body, evidence of what was done to him against his will.  


	8. The Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not caught up on comments... but I'm closer. Only a few chapters left now :).

Stiles's "pre-heat" whatever faded over the course of the next day. Derek let him stay in his bed while he was recovering. Derek had to take care of pack business, so he left Stiles alone for most of the day, coming back at lunchtime to eat with him and then again before dinner. 

He scent marked him for a long time before he left for the pack dinner. Stiles waited patiently as Derek hovered next to him and rubbed his wrist along Stiles's neck for longer than really necessary. 

"I'll be ok," Stiles reassured him. His chills were almost gone and his body temperature was only a degree or two cooler than it was supposed to be now. He felt much better. 

Derek didn't respond. He carded a hand along the back of Stiles's head where the hair was short and eased him into an embrace. 

"Hey, dude," Stiles noted joyously. "I'm not blacking out. I mean barely, but still. I think I've finally passed the scent threshold." 

"You're getting used to me." Derek pulled back and smiled briefly. 

"Only took a whole day of total immersion." Stiles grinned at him. Derek's smile had already faded, the worry returning to his eyes. "Hey. Can we... keep this to ourselves? Just for now. I don't want people to look at me differently." 

Derek searched his eyes, his expressive eyebrows spasming with concern. 

"No one's going to care." 

"I care." 

Derek pulled him into a fiercer hug and Stiles felt his shoulders heave with a sigh. Stiles was trying not to read too much into how touchy Derek was being -- he'd noticed that werewolves were much more physically affectionate between pack members, and Derek was obviously freaking out right now. Derek was just... pack. Which, luckily, meant a lot.

"I won't say anything. I'll tell Deaton, too." 

"Thanks." Stiles closed his eyes, enjoying that he could be this close to Derek without passing out. Fucking _finally_. He still felt dreamy and floaty, but he could deal with that. "I also... I talked to Scott and Erica and they told me the way I asked you to be my mate... I didn't mean it the way it sounded." 

He felt Derek tense and pull back slowly. 

"They explained to me what a mate is, how it's different from human ideas about dating. It sounds more like marriage. I didn't really understand that." Stiles realized he was staring at Derek's lips and forced his eyes back up to Derek's. "I just wanted you to know that... at first I really hated your guts." Derek's eyebrows shot up and Stiles hurried along, "But I was _totally_ wrong; I just didn't understand you. I still don't entirely understand you, but I know you better, and I feel... the opposite." Stiles took a breath, watching Derek's expression soften. "You said that you don't want to be my mate --"

"Stiles," Derek interrupted him. "I never said that."

"Yeah, but that's... what you meant. You were just being nice." Stiles blinked at Derek's amused face. 

"No." He looked a little exasperated. "I meant what I said."

"But--" 

"Look, stay warm and don't leave here. Deaton will be by in the morning to check that your temperature has stabilized and you're ok to go home. There's plenty of food in the fridge for you." Derek scent marked him again for good measure and stood to leave. 

"Are you coming back before then?" Stiles asked. He still had no idea where Derek went after the pack runs. Derek hesitated a moment before he nodded. 

"Try to get some sleep," Derek said before he left for good. Stiles sat in Derek's bed, lost in a daze, and tried to recall exactly what Derek said to him when he rejected him before. 

* * *

Stiles spent time looking around Derek's room, now that he had permission to be in there. There were a lot of business-looking things -- black glossy notebooks with important labels like "pack finances" and folders upon folders filled with papers by his desk. It was also remarkably neat. Among what Stiles guessed were actually personal belongings, there were a few books, even some movies. Derek liked action and mopey indie flicks, unsurprisingly. He found one photo album that looked a little burnt. Stiles tried to resist picking it up. He thumbed over the edges of it and wondered what was inside -- old pictures of the pack? Baby pictures of Derek? His family? He found himself incredibly tempted. 

Stiles decided against it. He put himself back in Derek's bed, wrapped himself completely under the sheets, and buried his nose into the pillow to try to distract himself from how desperately he wanted to snoop. Sleep came easily, though this time more slowly, like drifting into a lake rather than being pulled under the current of a river.

When he woke up again, Derek was next to him, his head propped on his arm. His skin was cool to the touch, his hair wet, and his eyes slit open. Stiles could see a hint of red flash in them as they watched him. 

"Go back to sleep," Derek whispered.

Stiles licked his lips, a small tremor coursing through his body. He'd finished high school and he'd been around enough horny teenagers to know what it meant when someone looked at you like that, especially while you were sleeping. 

Stiles edged toward him until their chests were lined up, their hips closer than what would be considered friendly. He could feel Derek against his thigh, too hard to be a coincidence. Stiles carefully looked down at Derek's lips, the dark stubble around them, before leaning in. When not only Derek didn't pull back but actually wrapped his arms around Stiles, Stiles went for it, closing the small distance between them and tasting Derek's lips. 

Fireworks went off in his head. Everything tasted right, smelled right, and felt right. Stiles forgot for a moment all the bad shit that he was worrying about. Stiles moved easily now that he had tacot permission, caressing along muscled shoulders and the hard planes of Derek's chest that he'd salivated over whenever he saw Derek at the lake. Derek moved under his hands, shifting and adjusting Stiles until they were just right, with Stiles's leg slightly bent over Derek's knee. 

Derek let Stiles kiss him until Stiles's hands worked their way down Derek's ridiculously strong stomach and slid along the waistband of his pants. Then he pulled back, breaking away from Stiles's hungry mouth. It looked like it took some effort. 

"You're not thinking clearly." 

"I'm fine." 

"Lie." Derek smiled, looking down at Stiles's mouth. "Go to sleep." 

"Like hell," Stiles breathed. "I've been dreaming about this... for... well, since I realized you were actually nice. I thought you looked at me as just another kid with a crush. I thought I was crazy."

"Stiles..." Derek sighed. Even his breath smelled intoxicating, the bastard. "Sleep. Forget this happened."

"I don't want to forget," Stiles barely managed to say, his heart suddenly aching. "Do you?" 

Derek put his hand to Stiles's jaw, his thumb stroking over Stiles's cheekbone. He looked over Stiles's face carefully, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. 

"Sleep."

Derek kissed his forehead before closing his eyes, still stroking his thumb along Stiles's cheek. Stiles watched Derek for a long while, torn between wanting to kiss the alpha again and wanting to respect his wishes. In the end, he fell asleep trying to decide. 

He woke up unsure if it had even been real or some desperately vivid fantasy. 

* * *

In the morning, Derek brought him something sweet and fruity from the kitchens and they ate together -- at the table this time, since Stiles felt essentially normal again. Derek was quiet. Stiles was kind of half aroused and half confused and he couldn't take his eyes off the broody alpha. He wanted to ask Derek if their kiss had been a dream, but he wasn't sure he could handle it if it had been. He preferred the hope of ambiguity to a certain no.  

Deaton saved them from their silence by knocking on the door. He put a thermometer in Stiles's mouth and declared him over his pre-heat. 

Stiles walked back with Deaton, who reassured him over and over that he was no less of a lycanthrope to them and that he shouldn't hesitate to tell Scott and the others. He misread Stiles's silence and pulled him in to scent him before he left. 

"Come to me for anything. Anytime." Deaton grabbed his hands tightly and squeezed. "You're not alone." 

* * *

Stiles kept waiting to drop dead or grow horns or turn blue (probably not in that order). 

Nothing happened. 

For weeks nothing happened. He felt normal. Derek acted like normal around him and Stiles came to assume he sick hallucinated their little moment. Scott and Erica continued vacillating between obnoxious and endearing. Stiles fretted over what kind of job he should take on and pulled the pack medical school pamphlets out from his desk drawer from time to time just to stare at the smiling werewolves, their eyes glowing and their fangs long. He bothered Nela and ate Sally's cookies and tried to avoid Deucalion's bad moods when he saw him around the territory. Time felt like it stood still. If it weren't for the mountains changing to red and gold, Stiles wouldn't have even known that fall was well under way. It wasn't until his next visitation that Stiles realized everyone from his high school had left for college without him. The knowledge opened a hole in his chest that didn't quite heal up when he returned to pack territory. 

Stiles thought maybe he'd feel different, knowing he was an unnatural experiment, but nothing changed in his life and it was easy to pretend things were normal. Other than the fear of suddenly dropping dead at any moment, he went about his day as he had before and worried about the same things. It helped that no one but him, Deaton, and Derek knew the truth about him. 

Erica got her heat. 

Stiles came in with Scott from the pens and found her wrapped up on the couch with all the blankets in the house. Her face peeked out through a hole in the layers of quilts and comforters. Scott jumped back like he’d walked into a wall and balled his fist to his nose as soon as they entered the house. 

"Oh my god, _what_ are you doing still doing here?" 

"Boyd's caught up doing stupid FBI shit for another few hours," she said moodily. "I get lonely in the heat house by myself."

"You... I can't be around you like this." Scott looked at Stiles. Stiles glanced between them, totally confused. "How are you fine right now?" 

"What?" Stiles blinked at them.

"I'm putting off... heat smell," Erica pouted, looking a little hilarious under all her blankets. "Scott's freaking out about it." 

"I don't... wait. I smell it." Stiles inhaled deeply and Scott looked at him like he was crazy. "It's kind of like... brown sugar?" 

"Gross." Scott seemed horrified. 

"I can't really smell it either." Stiles guessed that Erica shrugged by the way the whole mass of blankets moved. "It doesn't bother other girls. And I guess you. Weirdo." 

Stiles froze, wondering if this was another symptom of being a Frankenwolf. Neither of them seemed to notice. 

"Can't you hang out with Kira or something?" Scott was opening all the windows and edging toward his bedroom.

"Stop whining so much just because you feel guilty that you're horny over the wrong girl." 

"Yeah, you're like my sister. It's weird." Scott turned bright red.

"Then _you_ leave." Erica arched an eyebrow. "It's my house, too. And I'm too chilly to move. Boyd's going to have to piggyback me over." 

"I'll take you over," Stiles volunteered, taking pity on Scott. "Where is it?' 

"Way the heck out there so no one can hear you doing the dirty. I was supposed to go when I first felt the symptoms a few hours ago... but I didn't want to just lie around by myself. Who knows when Boyd will show up." Erica hunched under her blankets  with a miserable frown.

Stiles scooped her up with his new super strength and struggled to make a space for his face through all the blankets so he could see where he was going. 

"My hero," Erica purred, somewhat muffled under the layers. 

They walked a path that took them at least a mile away from the cabins until they came to an artificial-looking hill with a door and entryway built into it. Stiles's first thought was that he'd stumbled on a hobbit hole. 

"Why does it look like this?" Stiles snorted as he placed Erica on her feet next to him and reached for the doorknob.

"It's super-insulated to keep us warm," Erica explained, shivering even under the blankets. She shuffled through quickly when Stiles figured out the door. A wave of heat hit Stiles as he entered, like walking into a sauna. Erica flipped a switch by the door and warm, soft lights lit up the small room. It reminded Stiles of a smaller pack pile -- just a giant mattress, blankets on the side, and a shelf filled with... oh. 

"You're such a cute virgin," Erica commented smugly, laboriously unwrapping herself from all her blankets. Stiles's eyes widened at the sight of the bottles of grape seed oil and the giant stack of towels for clean up. There was also a door to what Stiles assumed was a bathroom, one of the few TVs Stiles had seen on pack territory, and a small fridge. Also mystery drawers under the shelves of oil and stacks of towels. Stiles really wanted to look in the drawers.

"I'm not... so, Boyd's your heat partner?" Stiles struggled to change the subject. 

"Supposed to be." Erica glanced at him. "You might have to do if he doesn't get his ass back here soon." 

"Uh." Stiles couldn't help staring at her.

"Relax. I'm kidding." Erica smiled tightly. "Mostly." 

"He'll make it," Stiles reassured her, even though he had no idea. "What exactly happens to you in heat?" 

"First we go freezing for a couple hours-- or, really, the temperature we were before we changed. Then we get overwhelmingly horny, and that can last for days. Lucky for you, I'm still just freezing. Toys aren't enough, though they help. You really need someone else to get you through it. It's something chemical, I guess." 

"That kind of sucks." 

"Not really." Erica shrugged. She looked comfortable now in the heated room. "It's crazy hot sex. And we hit heat puberty later than humans do, usually after twenty. At that point you know who in the pack you really want to bone. Plus, heat pheromones make you pretty much irresistible to your heat partner, so they're almost always down for it. Usually it's every nine months, but sometimes you come a few weeks late or early. I'm kind of early this year."

"What happens if Boyd doesn't make it back?" 

"Isaac's my backup," Erica said moodily. "It's too uncomfortable by yourself." 

"Ouch." Stiles grinned. "Does he know you say it like that?" 

"We're friends. It's weird. Boyd and I aren't friends." Erica looked down. 

"Why not?" 

"Because he wants me to be his mate." Erica glanced at him before turning and sitting down. "And I'm young and wild and free and not all about the eternal love just yet." Erica shrugged and Stiles thought she did a really good job of trying to look like it didn't matter to her. Stiles sat down on the mattress floor with her and drew his knees up to his chin. Erica glanced at him before looking away again, agitated.

"We've talked about it a lot. He's just in a different place than me. It's not like I'll say no forever." Erica picked at her nails, avoiding Stiles's eyes. 

"If you're going to eventually say yes... then what's the problem?" Stiles asked, not getting her logic. 

"It's so intense, Stiles, you wouldn't understand." Erica's expression clouded. "Werewolves are serious romantics. Forever bonds. Divorce almost never happens, and when it does, it's such a big deal because you're still pack and everyone's up in your business trying to make sure it doesn't split the pack up. Plus, your pheromones get all fucked up and you basically lose your attraction to other werewolves -- which, fuck that. It's just too much for me." She searched his eyes for understanding before looking down at her nails again. "My parents got divorced when I was a kid. It was a lot of fighting and unhappiness. I decided I never wanted to get married even before I changed, and mating is worse. What if we decide we hate each other? We'll be in the same pack together forever. There's no escaping unless you transfer packs... which is like losing your family all over again." 

Stiles couldn't really relate. From what he remembered of his dad and his mom, they'd been happy together. Stiles was probably the opposite, actually -- an incurable romantic, ready to commit to... someone. No one in particular. No stupidly muscled, dark-haired, red-eyed someone.

"Werewolves don't really date," Erica grumbled. "We just do _this_." 

"How do you get to know someone, then?" Stiles asked. Erica threw her arms up in exasperation, though for once it wasn't directed at him. 

"I guess you just know them. They're _pack;_ everyone knows everyone. The people with chemistry become heat partners. Then, one day, you just decide to get fucking _forever married_ ," Erica swore angrily. "Crazy bastards. They do everything based on smell."

"Crazy bastards," Stiles agreed energetically to make her feel better; Erica was doing a worse job of hiding her misery now. It did sound like a bad idea, but Stiles was working on having an open mind when it came to werewolf culture. "I can imagine it would be really weird to break up inside pack." 

"Isaac and I had a thing and broke up." Erica perked up. "Now we're fine. But it's just... mating is different. It changes your body. It's scary."

Stiles didn't say anything. It actually sounded kind of awesome to him, if it was with the right person. 

They talked for what felt like an hour. Stiles heard more about Erica's childhood. He learned that the change cured a deadly disease she struggled with all her life. Because of that,  she was so grateful to have her health back again that the transition was easier for her than most others. Visitation was difficult since her parents split up and she had to choose who to visit. She had a little sister she missed; she carried her picture around in a locket Stiles had noticed her wearing. 

Eventually, Boyd burst through the door, looking more panicked than Stiles would have expected from the stoic werewolf. Erica changed from bubbly to irritated just before he came through the door.  

"I almost had to go find Isaac, you know." 

"I'm sorry." Boyd stared hard at Stiles like he couldn't figure him out. "I was up in Northern California for this case." 

"Ok, Stiles. Time for the grown-ups to have their alone time now." Erica still sounded irritated with Boyd so Stiles didn't take that too personally. He leaned over and scented her before standing up to leave. Boyd was still staring at him rather than Erica. 

"You've been here this whole time?" he asked slowly. 

"Yeah." Stiles shrugged, looking at Erica for an explanation. "I'll leave you guys to your... business." 

"Stiles is essentially my gay best friend. My smell doesn't bother him," Erica clarified to Boyd before turning to Stiles. "Seriously, scoot. I'm close to climbing him right in front of you."

Stiles scooted.

He didn't see Erica or Boyd for the next five days. Then Erica suddenly waltzed back in one night for dinner, acting and looking like nothing had happened.  

* * *

Stiles and Deaton had a standing weekly appointment on Fridays before pack dinner to check his vitals and run tests on his hormones and pheromones and whatever else. Stiles was pretty sure Deaton just liked to poke him with needles. Derek came to these appointments, fussing around the exam room and touching things uselessly. Once Deaton announced that everything looked fine, Derek would aggressively scent mark him before leaving. 

It felt... surreal. Stiles didn't know whether Derek felt guilty his pheromones were used against Stiles, or if he was just being an overprotective alpha and would have behaved like that if anyone in the pack got sick. Stiles wasn't about to complain, either way. He got to see Derek for a solid hour -- sit next to him and bother him with questions about his intense job -- while Deaton ran tests.

Neither of them were especially pleased when Stiles announced at his next appointment that he couldn't smell Erica's heat. 

"I guess I'm a pheromone eunuch or something." 

"Why didn't you come to me sooner?" Deaton demanded. 

"You're not a _eunuch,_ " Derek growled. 

"That's true. I wouldn't have such a hard on for you if I was," Stiles grinned at Derek, who looked unfazed. Deaton, on the other hand, seemed startled and embarrassed at how brazenly Stiles announced it. "What? _As if_ I've been subtle about it."

"This is very serious, Stiles," Deaton scolded him. "You should have told me as soon as you realized. Your pheromones are in a delicate balance, and this could be a sign of --"

"Don't speculate," Derek interrupted.

"Yes." Deaton seemed to calm himself somewhat. "You're right. Let's do some tests first. But you come to me the moment something like that happens again, alright?" 

"I'm not gay," Stiles felt the urge to point out. "I mean, I'm still physically attracted to girls. And guys, obviously. I don't know why I'm not into heat smell." 

Deaton looked more concerned than Stiles felt (which was mostly because the person he _was_ into didn't get heats, so it didn't much matter to him). Stiles was cool with it as long as it wasn't a symptom of other terrible things going on in his Frankenstein body. 

Stiles was almost starting to enjoy Deaton poking him since Derek always cuddled him through it, wrapping an arm around his shoulder or pushing Stiles's nose into his neck while Deaton drew blood. 

While Deaton puttered around in his tiny lab looking displeased, Derek told him quietly about a case he was working on with Boyd in LA that involved the organization they suspected of dosing him. Stiles faked pain in his arm when Deaton drew more blood (ridiculous, since he healed so quickly from the needle sticks) so that Derek would scent mark him and sit even closer, their thighs touching. He got a tiny thrill of joy out of watching Derek fuss over him so much. He caught Deaton rolling his eyes before he turned back to his lab. 

"Nothing," Deaton announced with a shake of his head as he looked through the last test results on his computer. "From what I can tell, you're healthy." 

Derek seemed to let a breath go next to him. 

* * *

Stiles got away from Scott on the next pack run. 

He was getting faster and more used to his body, now able to run at the front of the group rather than lag behind in the back. Derek's scent was strongest there, and it lulled him into a mindless pounding of his feet, lost in the pleasure of the stretch and burn of his legs and lungs. Scott and Kira had gotten caught up wrestling in the back, and Erica and Isaac branched off early to head back to the pack pile. 

Behind him, far behind him, he heard the other lycanthropes drop off as they rounded the cabins, heading back to the pack pile for the night. Derek's scent floated in front of him, drawing him farther along a mouth watering path. 

Stiles heard Scott calling for him. But he was far behind, too far to catch him, and Stiles was free in the night with nothing but Derek's scent in his mind. 

He followed it as it grew stronger, down through the wilting trees and bushes, until he got to the lake. It tapered off, weakening in his instinctual mind until Stiles woke as if from a dream and realized he was standing, panting, at the edge of the lake, watching the calm surface ripple in the pale light of the moon. He searched the unbroken water looking for Derek. The trail led into the water, Stiles was sure of it -- he'd seen clothes discarded at the edge of the forest. It was too quiet. The question of why Derek was out here by himself, when everyone else was curled up sleeping, whispered through him. 

Derek surfaced in the middle of the lake, far away from the shore. He was still for a moment, bobbing with the waves, until he turned slowly. His eyes flashed red when they met Stiles’s hungry gaze.

Stiles ripped his shirt and pants off, wading into the lake and then pushing off. He cut hurriedly through the water. Derek waited for him in the middle of the lake, tracking his progress with his red eyes. 

When Stiles got to him he didn't know what to do. Derek just watched him, his expression dark and his eyes brighter than Stiles had ever seen them. He was all kinds of beautiful in the low light of the moon, the water splashing up against his flawless skin. Stiles wanted nothing more than to breathe him in, but he couldn't find the words to ask for it.  

Derek was an inch away from him when Stiles next blinked. Stiles jumped in surprise as the water rumbled around them from the sudden movement, Derek's red eyes carding over his face and trailing down to his lips. Another beat passed before Derek kissed him like he was starving. His eyes seeming to glow red under his eyelids. 

Stiles eagerly opened his mouth for him, resting his arms on Derek's twisting shoulders. The alpha's powerful legs kept them up with only a few strokes, and Stiles gave in completely to Derek's commanding hold on him, wrapping his legs around Derek's waist and clinging to the alpha as closely as he could.

Derek's hands brushed along his skin, smoothing down his back and massaging his thighs and ass. Electricity sparked through him everywhere they touched, especially where Derek pressed their hips together and thrust against him. Stiles gasped and Derek buried his face in Stiles's neck and Stiles was dizzy with how much he wanted him, _needed_ him. 

Stiles groaned mindlessly and felt pleased when Derek seemed to understand his wordless plea. He let Stiles go at once and started swimming toward the shore, looking back to make sure Stiles followed. Stiles almost couldn't think clearly enough to swim, but luckily his freakishly strong body propelled him easily and quickly back to the shore, where Derek was waiting for him. Derek sank back against the sand as Stiles straddled his naked body, both of them scrambling to pull off his boxers, which Stiles had left on in his hurry to get to him. 

Derek captured his mouth with a groan as Stiles finally slid into place on his lap, bare to Derek's cock against his, and rucked up against him. While Stiles took them both in hand, Derek steadied his hips into a rocking motion that had them tipping their chins back and crying out together. Derek took advantage of Stiles's exposure and bit his neck where his scent was strongest. Stiles sobbed at the powerful shock that ran through him from Derek's teeth. It was too much, tears running from his eyes, so Derek took over, moving Stiles's hips into the slide of Derek's hand on both their cocks. Stiles leaned in to scent Derek, and his mind swam with the overwhelming sensation of pleasure and arousal and... something deeper. Something _important_. Something Stiles knew, instinctually, but couldn't name.

They spilled almost in unison while Stiles was focusing on tasting Derek so thoroughly he could decipher the word in his head that defined them perfectly. Derek whined into his mouth, their tongues tangled, and Stiles swallowed it down. 

Stiles collapsed onto Derek's chest before Derek was finished coming between their stomachs, his hand milking the last of Stiles's own orgasm from their entangled cocks. Derek nipped at his ear, licking and mouthing along his neck, back to where he'd bitten him. He licked the raised skin there and it sent little sparks down Stiles's spent body. Stiles twitched and moaned at the overstimulation, his cheek hot against Derek's shoulder as his breath shuddered out. Derek mumbled something incoherent into the side of Stiles's neck, his arms tightening protectively around Stiles's limp body. Stiles couldn't move if he wanted to so he stayed there as Derek's hands stroked over his back. 

Eventually, Derek tilted Stiles onto the sand next to him, leaning in to kiss Stiles's cheek gently before wading back into the water to wash the sand from body. 

Stiles followed him in, not wanting to separate from him for even a second. Derek turned to catch Stiles's lips on his neck in a real kiss. 

"I can't stop myself anymore," Stiles sighed against his skin after they broke apart.

"I know," Derek returned softly, looking out over the lake.  


	9. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I forgot to tag "mpreg references", my apologies. Hopefully most people reading something tagged "abo dynamics" won't be too irked by that. Could also possibly be considered along the lines of internalized transphobia? Idk if I should tag it like that, though, since it's kind of a unique situation in the ABO world. I'd appreciate thoughts on that at the end of the chapter. To clarify, there's no graphic mpreg in this story.

Derek was quiet and withdrawn as they walked home in the dark. 

"Dude, I still have sand in my ass. Never again. Well, on the beach." Stiles tried for joking to mask how genuinely worried he felt about Derek's moody silence. Derek's lips barely twitched in response. His eyes kept drifting to the red bite mark on Stiles's throat, the skin not broken but definitely bruised from what Stiles could feel, before he would shake himself and look away again. 

"Ok. Stop." They were halfway home and Stiles couldn't take it anymore. "We need to solve this before we get back to the land of accidental eavesdroppers." He smoothed a hand over Derek's shoulder and forced the alpha to face him on the path. "Just tell me. I'm a big boy." 

"I don't know what to do," Derek admitted, taking Stiles's hands in his and leaning their foreheads together. "I don't want to ask you for too much... but that's the reality." 

"You mean... that you're the alpha." 

"Yes." 

"And I would be your... alpha mate," Stiles clarified. 

"Yes." Derek sighed. 

"Well, please hold on to your excitement." Stiles felt hurt by how depressed Derek seemed. "Don't overwhelm me with it or anything." 

"You're still just a pup." Derek squeezed his hands. Stiles pulled them free.

"Don't call me that. Erica calls me that and I hate it. I'm an adult." Stiles crossed his arms defensively.  

"It's not about being young -- it's about being new." Derek carefully took his hands back, untangling his arms. "You've barely adjusted. I can't ask for this kind of commitment from you. I shouldn't have done this now." 

"Can't we just... do this for now?" Stiles asked. This conversation was not at all going the way he planned. "Have sex and hang out and see how it goes?" 

"No." Derek shook his head. "That's not how we do things." 

"Well, maybe it should be." Stiles sighed in frustration. Derek huffed too. 

"This is serious, Stiles. The pack is part of me. You can't just want me, you have to want them, too. That's not what you want right now." 

It was... true. Stiles had barely learned to like the pack at this point.

"I don't know either," Stiles admitted. He pressed a kiss to Derek's lips.  

Derek looked despondent as he turned and started walking again. 

* * *

Stiles didn't see Derek for another week. He left the next morning for a case before Stiles woke up.

It _sucked --_ way more than usual. 

He felt like he couldn't think about anything else. Everything reminded him of Derek. The goats that Scott had to milk once a day reminded him of Derek, and Derek was undoubtedly far more handsome. Eating food reminded him of him Derek. Falling asleep. Brushing his teeth.

Stiles eventually got into the stash of werewolf beer and Isaac found him sleeping in the cellar. He didn't kick his ass, which Stiles appreciated. Erica and Scott kept pestering him about his pouting and Stiles ended up flinging pig poop at Scott in the pens to get him to drop it. He puppy piled, but he was still miserable. Sleeping with Derek had awakened something hungry and lonely in him. He couldn't wait to see him again.

Once or twice (or three times) Stiles pretended he was pack piling and snuck into Derek's house to fall asleep in his bed and smell the alpha again. He wasn't sure he was allowed to be in there, but he couldn't seem to help himself. 

He waited in Deaton's exam room on Friday, nearly bouncing with excitement that he could finally see Derek again. 

"Why are you always so eager for these exams?" Deaton wondered aloud as he drew the first vial of blood. "Are you sure you're doing alright? You understand what these are for, right? This isn't... a cheerful matter." 

Stiles ignored him when he heard Derek walking up to the clinic. He almost jumped off the exam table in excitement, but he willed himself to be fucking cool and stay put. 

Derek entered the room looking exhausted. His eyes immediately sought out Stiles. He came to him and scented him for a long time, nuzzling his neck gently before he sat down in a chair on the other side of the room. Stiles almost cried when he moved away from him, his hands clenching at his sides to stop himself from grabbing at him. 

"Now that you're both here... I have some good news." Deaton looked between them, his eyes narrowing somewhat. "Very good news. I received my... horse and buggy... from the elders in Nepal this week." 

"You already know what's going on with me, though. I'm a Frankenstein," Stiles pointed out, barely able to concentrate on Deaton's words with Derek in the room. Derek bristled at the term, shifting anxiously in his seat. 

"You are synthetic," Deaton clarified slowly. "But not from the source we originally thought." 

"What?" Derek barked, lighting up. 

"Yeah, what?" Stiles echoed, confused. "Who else would do this to me?" 

Deaton looked between them with a mysterious expression that seemed to fit his mystical robes. 

"There is a very old concept in lycanthropy history, that of a 'true mate'. It best explains your unusual symptoms." When Stiles looked at Derek to see if he recognized it, all the tension had drained from Derek's face, his eyes going wide. "In biological terms, two individuals with a near perfect genetic compatibility. It is stronger than infatuation, much stronger -- as you've experienced. If a lycanthrope encounters their true mate in their unchanged state, then their pheromones can and will induce the change in the other. That seems to be the case for you two. Stiles, you would have not become a lycanthrope if you'd never met Derek." 

"Derek..." Stiles's mouth was suddenly dry, his mind blank. "...did this to me." 

"Yes, he is your true mate." Deaton paused for a long time, watching Stiles process the information before continuing. "And, as an alpha, his pheromones are more abundant and aggressive. They... caused additional changes in your body."

"Like what?" Stiles heard himself asking, dreading the answer.

"Generally speaking, werewolves are fairly infertile, despite their best efforts. Alphas are more fertile than other lycanthropes to give them a greater chance of passing on the alpha trait, as all packs need an alpha to be healthy. The changes in your body were to make you compatible with Derek's fertility. The elders call same-sex partners that undergo the true mate change 'mother fathers'." Deaton paused, looking between them to check if they understood. They clearly didn't. "Stiles, you will experience heats. You are insensitive to heat scent because it is part of your own anatomy now. As such, you will be capable of pregnancy during those heats. But there are limitations -- for instance, it is likely that a c-section would be needed to successfully deliver a child." 

"Usually, your first full heat should come three to six months after your preheat. If you two..." he narrowed his eyes at them. "... sleep together, it may come earlier. Much earlier." 

"We have," Derek admitted immediately. "How soon?" 

"Given the strength of Stiles's sensitivity to you, I would guess as early as a week after the event. Perhaps longer. I've never dealt with true mates before this, so I will not be able to make detailed predictions. There are signs, however. I can check the blood I just took for heat hormones. Stiles, you might feel a strong urge to stay near Derek. That can sometimes happen with infatuated couples, and will likely be true in your case." 

Stiles's heart raced. It was too much, these two speaking so calmly about the biggest change in his life since he became a werewolf. No, bigger. This was... terrifying. 

He slid off the exam table and burst out the door, running down the path, toward the garages. 

Derek caught up to him quickly, grabbing at his arm to slow his speed. Stiles twisted on him. 

"Don't _touch_ me!" It burst from his lips, the panic bubbling in his chest finding an escape valve. He barely saw the hurt flash over Derek's face as he shoved him away before he turned and ran again with one thought in his mind: he was getting out of this hell. He was leaving. No more weirdness, no more Derek to twist his head and drug him with his scent and make him think any of this was less insane than it actually was. He was detoxing from this weird cult that had turned him into... this. He had so little control over himself anymore, and he was sick of it. 

He'd _trusted_ Derek. God. Every time he'd doubted this place, Derek had been the one to change his mind. Derek and his stupid, poisonous  _smell_. He couldn't trust anything, or anyone, anymore -- except his dad. 

It was laughably easy, actually. Reckless -- near the top of his list for fast and reckless escape plans -- but easy. Stiles wanted reckless right now, wanted Derek to know he was done being _messed_ with. 

They kept the keys to the cars hidden, but Stiles had paid close attention. He opened the door to the garage to find Derek standing in the road, in his path. Stiles started the grey Sedan, glaring at him. Derek looked fearless, his lycanthrope face out as he waited. Stiles honked once. Derek didn't move. Stiles slammed on the gas, lurching out of the garage. Derek waited until the last second to dive out of the way.

Stiles drove.

* * *

No one was home when Stiles got there. It was the middle of the day, so Stiles had assumed that his dad would be at work. He didn't predict that the Sheriff would move the spare key, though. He was probably worried about the freak mailman finding it. 

Instead, Stiles climbed a tree and easily opened the window to his bedroom on the second floor. At least his super strength came in handy for breaking into his own house. 

He collapsed onto his bed, breathing in all the familiar scents and feeling truly at home for once. His body ached with a longing he was trying his best to ignore, so he didn't linger on the bed with his own thoughts for too long. 

He looked around his room and sighed with pleasure. Finally. No one following him, no one telling him what not to say, no one to listen to him moving around in his own house, no one to bother him. He was truly alone. 

He told himself that felt good.

He spent the rest of the day eating junk food, watching youtube videos of baby animals and skateboarding tricks, and intermittently crying into his pillow as he wondered what the hell he was going to do now. His dad's refrigerator was surprisingly healthy, filled with vegetables and lean meats, but Stiles found the stash of junk food in the pantry. He said a prayer for Melissa, as she was undoubtedly responsible for the quality of food in his dad's refrigerator in Stiles's absence. He hunkered down at his desk in his childhood pajamas that just barely fit, drinking coke and not giving a fuck. 

He expected the werewolves to come after him. Every time he heard a car drive by the house, Stiles held his breath. They never did.  

Around six or seven at night, Stiles heard what was unmistakably the Sheriff coming up the walkway. He darted down the stairs and opened the door on his father's surprised face while the Sheriff was still reaching in his coat for his keys. 

"Dad." Stiles buried his face in his neck, scenting him futilely, and hugged him tightly. The Sheriff seemed to recover from his surprise and wrapped his arms around him in return. 

"What the hell are you doing here? Your visitation isn't for another week." 

"I'm not going back," Stiles said fiercely into his collar. "I'm just going to live here with you." 

"Hold on," the Sheriff pushed him back to arms length, looking over Stiles with concern. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" 

Stiles hesitantly shook his head. The Sheriff relaxed somewhat.

"I can't go back." 

"Why not?" 

"I have a uterus in my ass." 

The Sheriff's face went completely blank. He blinked at Stiles for a few seconds. 

"Why don't we go inside and sit down." 

"I'm serious," Stiles protested. 

"OK, son. I... believe you. Let's sit down and chat." 


	10. The Mailman

His dad sat back on the sofa and let a huge breath go as Stiles finished his story. He'd held nothing back, told his father everything -- all the weird scenting, the pack piles, the pack runs, Derek and his stupid _alpha_ -ness -- because why the fuck not? It was his _dad_. He wasn't going to hurt the werewolves, and Stiles wasn't going back so he didn't need to follow their stupid rules. 

"So... what exactly do you want to do about this, Stiles?" the sheriff asked eventually. Stiles straightened. 

"Ok, I figured it all out. I'm going to work from home. There was this girl -- Nela -- and she buried werewolf secrets online. I think I could do something like that here, and that way I don't have to be out in the world with the bigots."

"Ok," John said slowly, still skeptical.

"And I'll get contacts and wear sunglasses to hide my eyes. I'll just go out for groceries. I'll... stay here most of the time." 

"That sounds..." his dad looked sad, "lonely. I don't want that for you, kid. I want you to be happy. I want you to have relationships with people other than me and Melissa." 

"I can't be happy there. I don't trust myself. I don't trust _Derek_ anymore. And I don't want to have alpha babies."

"It sounds like Derek didn't know about this anymore than you did."

"Are you _defending_ him?"

"You just ran off!" His dad looked exasperated. "Which, I'm not saying I wouldn't have done that too... but Derek tried to stop you and you tried to, what, _run him over_? Maybe he was a little startled by the news, too."

"He's too fast for that," Stiles grumbled. "But, yeah."

"Ok, so it's a little weird. All of this is pretty weird. But, Stiles, what are you going to do about this pack smelling thing? That sounds like something you need now. And there's groups out in this world that really want to kill you. Our house isn't a fortress like the pack territory."

"I know that. That's why I'll keep a low profile and work from home, doing computer stuff," Stiles said quickly. "I'll pay you rent. I won't get in the way, dad, I swear."

"I'm not worried about that, Stiles. I am worried about the fact that you don't have a social security number here. You don't have citizenship anymore," his dad pointed out with a sigh. "It's very hard to live without those things."

"I know." Stiles bit his lip. "But I can't go back."

"What about another pack?"

"Dad!"

"If you really decide to do this, I'm behind you, 100%." The sheriff put his hands up in surrender. "But I don't want you to spend the rest of your life cut off from everyone and everything, especially when... you're not designed to live alone anymore. You're designed to be around other people like you. And it didn't seem like you hated it so much before you got this... strange news about you and Derek."

"I didn't hate it. But I just... I can't trust them," Stiles said.  

John just looked at him for a solid minute. 

"What about this... _heat_ business? We are not equipped to deal with that." 

"I'll just crank the heat. I'll be fine." Stiles wasn't entirely sure he would be, but he'd have to figure it out. "Maybe you should take Melissa on a vacation for a few days when it happens, though." 

"I'm not just going to _leave_ you here." John looked scandalized at the suggestion. 

"You might want to, from what I hear. Plus, the house will be sweltering." 

"Jesus." The sheriff crossed his arms and stared at the floor. "Let's both... sleep on this and talk again in the morning. Sound good? And we need to figure out how to return the car you stole, eventually." 

* * *

Stiles slept restlessly, waiting for someone to come through the window and kidnap him. He woke up in the middle of the night, the aching in his chest stronger than ever, and ate more junk food. He fell back asleep until he woke up an hour later and hurled it all up in the toilet. He hadn't thrown up since he was a kid with the flu. He'd forgotten how much it absolutely sucked. 

When he woke in the morning, the same thing happened with his breakfast. Apparently, he could no longer have nice things like premade waffle mixes. Or Lays potato chips and ranch dip. Or pop tarts, ugh. His stomach was now rejecting delicious, junky human food that wasn't spiced with herbs and stuffed with home-grown vegetables. He tried a coke to a more immediate reaction, barely making it to the toilet. He grew hungrier over the course of the day as various meals were treated the same way.

His dad called in to work sick so he could hang out with Stiles during the day. They watched Seinfeld on the couch and talked about Stiles's options. His dad wanted him to try the pack, or another pack, again before he relinquished his lycanthrope citizenship. Stiles still refused. In the end, Stiles fell asleep with his head on his dad's shoulder and a quilt his mom made tossed over both their laps. It felt so cozy, warm and safe, like the first memory he used to stabilize himself as a new lycanthrope. 

He woke up in the morning to his werewolf senses tingling. He sat up, wondering where his sense of alarm was coming from until he realized he could hear footsteps around the outside of the house.

He turned just in time to see the mailman, a package under one arm, aiming at him with a handgun through a window in the living room. A half a second later, he disappeared as something crashed into him. 

Stiles jumped up and ran outside before he could wonder if that was really a good idea. On the lawn just outside the living room window, Derek, his werewolf face out, pinned the man to the ground with both his hands to his back. A package was still tumbling away from them, and Stiles saw the handgun a few feet away from them in the grass. 

Derek growled as he yanked the guy up to his feet, handcuffed now because apparently Derek carried handcuffs around with him. Stiles tried not to find that hot, reminding himself how pissed off he was with the alpha. 

His dad came running through the door after him and Stiles realized that he'd thrown the door open so that it loudly banged against the front of the house. John was carrying his gun, frazzled. Half his face was shaved. He skidded to a halt next to Stiles. 

"Fucking mailman," Stiles muttered to himself as Derek pushed the guy in their direction. Stiles couldn't help but take a step back as the man passed them. He looked so... _ordinary_ in his mailman shorts, but he glared at Stiles like Stiles had been trying to kill _him_ rather than the other way around. "You had to order a package, did you?" 

"Amazon was having a sale," his dad replied dazedly.

"Sheriff?" Derek said, his voice clipped. 

"Right. I'll call it in." His dad stopped gaping and snapped into his sheriff attitude. "Keep him in sight, would you? He's been pissing me off for months."

"Oh, he's not getting away," Derek growled, his eyes flashing red as he pushed the guy to his knees on the front lawn. "Just try to run," he dared him, baring his fangs. The guy's eyes widened at the sight. 

"Demons," he spat. "Hell beasts."

"Yes." Derek crouched and leaned in to whisper something Stiles couldn't have heard if he wasn't a werewolf. "And I'll personally send you straight to hell if you come near my mate again. I'll find you wherever you are and kill you, understand? And I don't need a _gun_ to do it." 

The guy shook almost imperceptibly and glared at Derek. Derek glowered back, smiling big with his fangs dropped.

Stiles backed away from them both, running inside the house. Derek wouldn't leave the guy by himself on the lawn, so he knew he had some time. He needed to pack and leave before Derek could take him back to the territory. 

His dad appeared in his doorway, cell to his ear and his eyes wide. 

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked. 

"Leaving," Stiles answered as he shoved clothes in his lacrosse bag. "Derek will just convince me to come back." 

"Jesus, Stiles. You tried to run him over and he _still_ saves your life. Sit your ass down. You're not running out on this again, we're working through it this time."

"He called me his mate!" Stiles shouted, his hands shaking. 

His dad took a step back in surprise. Stiles heard someone speak on the other end of the phone and his dad put his finger up. 

"Yeah, at my house. Came at my son with a gun. I want two cars down here right now to pick the bastard up." His dad hung up and looked at him strangely. "Just listen to him. You never did that. What's the harm in it?" 

"His smell... I... I'm not strong around him," Stiles stuttered. 

"Ok. Then we'll put you where you can't... smell... each other, ok? Calm down, kid. He didn't mean to do anything to you and he's obviously still in your corner." 

Stiles sank down on his bed, a red hoodie still in his hands. 

He listened to the cops pull up on his front lawn, heard them talking in muffled voices. Heard his dad curse at the mailman. Heard Derek talk to his dad, even though he couldn't hear exactly what they said. Stiles considered packing again, but he knew his dad wouldn't rest until he'd spoken to Derek.  

He heard footsteps on the stairs and shoved the bag hurriedly under his bed so Derek wouldn't know just how much he'd been freaking out. 

Derek carefully rounded the doorway, his hand on the frame. 

"Stay there," Stiles said, scooting a little farther back on the bed. "I don't want to be able to smell you when we talk." 

"Ok," Derek agreed, his eyes cloudy. 

"I'm not your mate," Stiles clarified immediately.

Derek looked down like Stiles had hit him.

"Oh god, don't. Don't do that," Stiles said, his heart aching for him. "Stop."

"What?" Derek crossed his arms and shrugged one shoulder jerkily. "I'm just standing here." 

"I didn't do anything to you. Don't try to make me feel bad. _You_ did this to _me,_ " Stiles growled. 

"And that's so terrible?" Derek glared at him. "Being one of us is so terrible that you hate me for it." 

"I could do without the magical ass." Stiles glared back. 

Derek swallowed and looked away. 

"Yeah." 

"You said once that you don't understand me." Derek leaned against the doorframe, looking down at his feet. "That's true." 

"I don't want to understand you," Stiles scoffed. "You've been drugging me with your scent to get me to submit to you." 

Derek's eyes widened with horror. 

"Is that really how you feel?" Derek whispered. "You think I've been _drugging_ you?" 

"Well, what would you call it?" Stiles shifted uncomfortably. 

"It's not meant to take away your sense of choice, it's meant to make you comfortable --" 

"Maybe I _want_ to be uncomfortable, Derek. Maybe that's ok sometimes." Stiles shouted it at him, his control breaking. "Maybe sometimes you shouldn't just do what everyone in a group wants you to do! I used to challenge things and fuck things up and change shit around, like your stupid no-dating thing and that not-telling-anyone bullshit. I don't feel like I can do that when I'm around you." 

"Then that's my failure." Derek seemed to crumple in the face of Stiles's anger. "I've failed you as your alpha. If you feel you don't have a voice, then I haven't been listening." 

"Ugh." Stiles put his hands to his head. He was feeling sorry for him again. Why was Derek always so goddamn reasonable? "Look, I don't think you actually meant to. I'm just too sensitive to you, or whatever." 

"That will fade with time." Derek swallowed. "Your smell makes me do things too, you know. It makes me feel out of control, too." 

"Oh, really." Stiles was skeptical. "When I was fainting all over the place and stalking you, you seemed to have a real hard time just standing there."

"Since your preheat... I haven't stopped thinking about you. Nothing's ever smelled so good to me." Derek sniffed the air before his expression shifted to shame. 

"That's just heat smell," Stiles dismissed him. 

"No." Derek shook his head. "It's you. It's your real scent. I've been catching whiffs of it since you got here, not sure what it was. I've smelled other werewolves in heat before. It... doesn't compare. I _couldn't_ stop thinking about you. That's when I realized what we were. I just didn't know how to put it into words. And then I couldn't stop myself when you came to me at the lake. It was like I was under some kind of spell." " 

Stiles drew his knees up to his chest on the bed and sat in silence, not sure what to say. It sounded familiar in a painful way.

"I--" Derek ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, can you just listen to me? You can't smell me, right? So it's just me talking." 

Stiles waited stiffly without answering. 

"Deaton... he explained things to you clinically. But you didn't grow up all your life hearing stories about true mates, so it meant something different to you. It's almost like a fairytale to us, someone whose scent is so compatible with yours that they change to be your mate...To lycanthropes, what we are... the humans use the word 'soulmate'. It's not right, but it's the closest thing you have. Scent is sacred to us. I trust what scent tells me about someone more than anything else." Derek sighed. "Biologically, Deaton's right. But all we are is biology, Stiles. It's up to us to put meaning to that. For me, you were a miracle. You shouldn't be possible... but you are, and you're perfect for me in all these ways I've been trying to ignore so that I wouldn't put pressure on you. The meaning behind what we are... you're honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me. But you... you think I've done this terrible thing to you." 

Stiles pulled his knees closer, tighter. He stared as he saw tears well up in Derek's eyes, not quite believing the big, intimidating alpha was crying over _him_. Stiles realized how tired the alpha looked and wondered if he'd been outside his house this whole time, watching for danger. Ready to tackle mailmen.

"I'll do... I'll do whatever you want to make you feel at home in the pack again. I'll leave you alone. I won't get close to you again. Just come home; I can't stand the thought of you out here in the human world like this, vulnerable to them," he growled the last part as a tear spilled down his cheek.  

Stiles fell back on his bed, completely deflated. He couldn't win. He just wanted to stay mad at Derek for once. Just _once_. The _fucker_.

"That's not what I want. I don't hate you," Stiles admitted somewhat bitterly to his ceiling. "God, I wish I could. I wish I could just hate you. Then I could go live in a cave by myself and never think about you again." Stiles gripped his comforter in one hand, twisting the fabric with frustration. "It's easier for me if I blame this on you. Because... I'm really freaked out, Derek. I can feel it coming. I can't keep anything down and I just know I'm about to go into heat and I don't want to and I feel like everything's out of control. I want to take it back. I want some semblance of control back in my life."

There was a crack like wood splitting and Derek whimpered. Stiles lifted his head enough to see that he was holding onto the doorway -- which had crunched in his hands -- frozen, like it was killing him not to move. 

"Jesus, I give you permission to drug me with your scent now." Stiles rolled his eyes to cover how touched he was by the alpha's reaction.

Derek launched himself at Stiles, crawling quickly up on the bed with him. Stiles reluctantly wrapped an arm around him as the alpha nuzzled close to his throat and curled an arm around his waist. 

"I'll help you. We'll make it good, Stiles, I promise," Derek mumbled into his neck. 

"Yeah." Stiles sighed, not quite believing him. It felt too good to be held like this, especially after spending time away from the pack scent. "Ok." 

* * *

 Stiles started shivering in the car. He had to pull over and call Derek, who was driving another car ahead of him. 

"What do I do?" Stiles asked, trying not to panic and failing.  

"Crank the heat. We'll be back in ten minutes and then we can go to the heat house." 

"You ever done this before?" 

"Heat?" 

"Yeah." 

"I know what to do, Stiles. Trust me." 

Stiles hung up and turned the heater up as high as it would go. It was warm enough for him to get back to pack territory. As soon as they parked the cars, Derek took his hand and started leading him toward the heat house. 

"We should get there quickly. Your temperature will drop fast." Derek felt his forehead, threading his other hand through Stiles's hand. Stiles's teeth were chattering already. "Let's run." 

Stiles was glad they did. It only took a few minutes, but by the time they got there he was downright freezing. Derek walked in with him and smiled when Stiles's shivering slowed. The temperature felt normal in the room, though it had felt sweltering when he was there before with Erica. 

"I need to tell the elders you're back and you're going through heat. They've all been very concerned." 

"Are they pissed at me?" 

Derek shrugged. 

"I'm not saying you should do it again. We moved up your visitation and called it a family emergency. Will you be ok for a few minutes?"

"I don't know, will I?" Stiles asked, apprehensive. 

Derek kissed his forehead and nuzzled at his neck. 

"You won't start to feel it for a few hours. Just make yourself comfortable." 

"Oh! Ask Deaton if there's anything I can eat that I won't throw up," Stiles remembered. "I'm fucking starving." 

"He said that might be part of it. Your digestive system's shutting down so that it can --" 

"Gross. Don't want to know. Just tell me if there's something I can hold down." Stiles held up a hand, a little queasy at the thought. 

"Ok. I'll be back." Derek kissed him gently and Stiles sighed into it, kind of wanting to keep him there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the next chapter is really long and taking a while to edit. It might be a few days, my apologies.


	11. The Heat Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sorry for the wait, folks. This used to be a long ass chapter (10k+), but I decided to chop it up since it was taking so long to edit. So, there will be more chapters more regularly. 
> 
> I added some tags for the sex stuff, so check them out before you read if you're squicky about anything. Thanks for keeping up again :)!

Stiles took his time looking around the heat room while he waited for Derek to come back. He laughed when he found a phone in the corner, a landline with numbers including both the elders and Deaton. 

"Stiles." Deaton picked up on the first ring. "You're back." 

"Yeah. Also, Derek doesn't understand that we have a phone here so he's running around the territory." Stiles grinned. 

"I'm sorry," Deaton said quickly. "I overwhelmed you with too much information all at once. I just thought you would want to know --" 

"I do," Stiles clarified. "I did. I just... I needed to freak out a little bit. Things have been nonstop weird since I got here and I think I've been needing a good freakout for a long time, that was just... the straw that broke the camels back. Deaton... we're going to need some heavy duty condoms or something. I'm not ready to get pregnant." 

"The odds of that are very low." 

"Yeah, well so were the odds of me turning into a werewolf. But here I am." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Never tell me the odds are low again, I tend to beat them, dude. He's an alpha. We're true mates or whatever. We'll find a way to make it happen on the first go." 

"It's almost unheard of for werewolves to use birth control, but human birth control should work. I'll see if I can find something that will be compatible with your unique combination of hormones." 

"Thanks. Do it quick. I have a feeling things are going to go fast when Derek gets back." 

"I will have to go off territory for it as I don't keep birth control here. Usually werewolves are more interested in _increasing_ their fertility than decreasing it. Tonight you might have to do what you can to avoid penetration if you are truly worried about conception. Again, though, the odds are --" 

"Deaton, seriously?" Stiles whined. "Please find it. ASAP." 

"I'll call you on this line when I do, but if you're... unavailable, just call me back when you can." 

"Ok, thanks man." 

"I'll come by with Derek, if that's alright. Normally I would talk a new lycanthrope through heat long before they expected to get their first one." 

"That's fine as long as you bring me something to eat, dude. I'm starving and I'm throwing everything up."

"Oh dear. I thought that might happen. I'll be there soon."  

Stiles looked through the rest of the room while he waited for Derek. He was immensely pleased to find a real, live jacuzzi in the surprisingly nice bathroom, complete with a walk-in shower and sinks. He found extra tooth brushes and toothpaste in the cabinets, lotion, mouthwash, face wash, and that scentless soap the wolves all used in the shower -- all the amenities of a hotel. This was probably the werewolf equivalent to going away on a romantic trip. 

In the heat room itself, there was a cabinet filled with DVDs for the TV, some of which were actually pretty decent, and board games, of all things. Feeling adventurous, Stiles peaked in the mystery cabinet he'd noticed before and found exactly what he'd suspected -- sex toys. Well, they weren't _exactly_ what he'd expected because most of them had a big bump at the base of the cocks that Stiles figured was supposed to represent the "knot". Of all things to be werewolf-specific, sex toys were last on Stiles's list of expectations. 

He was just playing with one with an inflatable knot when he heard Derek and someone else come running up outside. He jumped in surprise and ended up dropping the thing on the ground, still inflating, just as Derek called, "Ok to come in?" Stiles chased it as it bounced along the mattress. When he caught it he replaced it angrily in the drawer before calling out his agreement to Derek. 

Derek poked his head in first and then seemed to let a breath go when he saw Stiles still fully clothed and decent, standing awkwardly by the no longer mysterious cabinets. 

"I brought Deaton with me," Derek said as he stepped in. "That ok?" 

"Yeah. There's actually a phone in here, so I told him to come." 

"Hello Stiles." Deaton smiled at him. "I'm going to keep my distance unless necessary, if that's alright. The heat smell is quite potent." 

"Uh, yes. It's cool." Stiles blushed in embarrassment at the thought of getting _Deaton,_ of all people, riled up. Ew. Also, awkward. But mostly no. "Shit, is that an IV bag you're holding? _No._ " Stiles groaned. "I specifically ordered _food_ , Deaton." 

Derek shifted anxiously and Deaton nodded. 

"Unfortunately, this is the best way to keep you healthy during this process. I'm going to place a line while I'm here, but I'll show you how to hook yourself up to the IV when you're feeling tired and ready to take a break. The good news is that once your heat starts going, you won't feel your hunger anymore." 

"I guess that's the second best news I could get, right behind 'your condition has a special immunity to burgers with extra fries'." Stiles watched despondently as Derek stocked the fridge with three IV bags. Deaton poked him to put the line in while Derek stroked his back. Then Deaton showed him how to hook up the IVs and gave them a schedule to follow. 

"Now, Stiles, heat is pretty simple." 

"Oh god." Stiles buried his face in Derek's shoulder. Derek put an arm around him and squeezed. "He's going to science again, isn't he?"

"Honestly, I think you're far more worried about this than you need to be. You'll just be cold and aroused, and the best remedy for that is to stay in a warm area, which you're doing, and complete intercourse with a partner, which you have. The good news is that the more intercourse you complete, the faster your heat will go." 

"Why do you keep saying complete?" Stiles groaned, dreading the answer. "What does that mean?" 

"It means that Derek knots you," Deaton said, far calmer than anyone should be able to say such words. "The more your body fluids interact, the faster the heat will go. I've seen heats over in three days if the partners are very regular about knotting. Condoms won't work on werewolves for a multitude of reasons, but you don't need to worry about human sexual diseases -- we run too hot for them to survive. That includes HIV, which is what humans normally worry about in this scenario, and for good reason. I'll be looking for something hormonal to put you on tomorrow to prevent conception, but in your case, semen contact is a good thing. You might even say necessary. I know that may be contrary to what you're used to hearing in the human world, but your body is different and doesn't play by the same rules anymore." 

Stiles's face was burning and he didn't know how Derek was able to remain so completely and totally straight-faced, nodding diligently like he was taking notes in his head. _Knot Stiles regularly. Check._ Well, at least one of them was. Stiles was still too embarrassed the word 'knot' had come out of Deaton's mouth ( _several_  times) to focus on the important parts of that explanation. 

"The only other thing to keep in mind is to stay hydrated. Your body will need the extra water." 

"I'll make sure he does," Derek nodded, his hand trailing idly along Stiles's shoulder. 

"Good. Then I won't bother you two again until tomorrow, when I let Stiles know about the birth control," Deaton said brightly. He waved and left them in the room by themselves.

Derek immediately pulled his shirt over his head. When Stiles froze, Derek looked apologetic. 

"It's really hot in here." 

"Oh," Stiles breathed. Derek settled on the floor shirtless and Stiles sat down facing him, wondering what the heck they could talk about while they waited for Stiles to get incredibly horny. 

"How does Deaton make everything so unsexy?" Stiles wondered briefly. Derek smiled. 

"He's Deaton." 

"I'm telling him you said that." 

"Quit ratting on me." Derek pulled off his socks too and carried them, and his discarded shirt, over to a cabinet at the side of the room. Stiles watched him, marveling at how unbelievably hot he was -- the muscles that moved in his back as he walked, the definition of his shoulders, the way his hips narrowed, and swell of his ass in his jeans.

"Jesus," Stiles whispered to himself. "I think I've been looking at this all wrong." 

"What?" Derek asked as he returned. The front of him was just as good as the back of him, good lord. 

"You're insanely hot," Stiles pointed out. "I'm stuck in a comfy room with an insanely hot guy who wants to have sex with me for literally days." 

Derek's expression twisted with amusement and his lips curled slowly into a smile. 

"Well, that's the plan." 

"I can't believe I've been freaking out about this." Stiles grabbed at his head. "You've done this before, right? Is it really not a big deal like Deaton says?" 

Derek leaned back and considered his words for a moment. "It doesn't have to be a big deal. It's a big deal to me this time because it's with you." 

"Who was it with before?" Stiles suddenly wanted to know. It had to be someone in the pack. "Not Erica?" he blanched. 

Derek shook his head. 

"Jennifer." 

"Oh my god, Derek. She's like forty." 

"That's more like late twenties in werewolf years," Derek pointed out, unfazed. "Anyway, it was before I became alpha, so a few years ago. It was in another heat room we have. I'm not used to this one -- first time here, just like you." 

"I'm weirdly jealous about that," Stiles noted, more out of surprise than anything. Derek looked smug. 

"We didn't really like each other that much. I was just young and excited that she asked me. In the end, we decided we weren't that compatible."

"What if we aren't?" Stiles wondered. 

"We are," Derek said with confidence. "You already smell..." Derek's eyes went dark as he trailed off. 

Stiles smiled nervously and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He shivered once and Derek's eyebrows twitched with concern. 

"I'm going to take a hot shower," Stiles announced. 

"Wait." Derek stopped him, looking down. "We should... set some things straight." 

"Ok." Stiles rubbed his shoulders. Derek’s tone made his stomach flip. 

"I'm going to try to be more sensitive about what my scent does to you. So you don't feel... drugged." 

Stiles felt kind of bad now for being so dramatic about that. 

"Thanks," Stiles said lamely. 

"So, I really need you to tell me when you feel that way and when I should back off to give you some breathing room. I'll do the same for you. Since your preheat, your smell has been much stronger to me." 

Stiles nodded again, feeling his heart unthaw a little bit at the gesture.

"The second thing is... mating." 

Stiles's muscles seemed to all tense at once. 

"I'm going to try this..." Derek's nose wrinkled briefly with distaste before he smoothed it away. "... _dating_ thing, with the understanding that... I want to be your mate, and I'm not sure I'm capable of being casual with you. But if it's what you really want, we can try. I already know you'll be an excellent mate, though, when you decide you're ready for the bite." 

"I -- thank you." Stiles blinked. "Really? Derek, I mean... do you even know what dating is?" 

"Hanging out and having sex." Derek looked glum. What a weirdo. "That's what you said, anyway." 

"Yeah, but a lot of people do it with the intention of one day getting married. I mean, not always. But there's less pressure." 

"But I'm ready to mate with you now," Derek said blankly, not seeming to understand the concept.

"Because of my smell. Really? Like a week ago you were worried if I could handle the pressure, but now you're sure? That's the deciding factor for you?" Stiles raised both his eyebrows because. Just. Fucking _werewolves_. 

"I said _I_ was ready. I trust what my body tells me about you, and we'll work through the rest with time. I know _you're_ not, and learning that we're true mates hasn't made you any more ready. I just wanted you to know that so you'll come to me when you are." 

"Y'all really do just skip straight to the engagement, don't you?" Stiles scratched the back of his head. He wasn't quite sure how to handle this difference between them. "Erica wasn't kidding. So how exactly do we mate?"

"Bites." Derek touched his neck. "At the neck. Both of us have to do it while we're shifted."

"That sounds... painful."

"Only for a moment," Derek said softly, looking wistful. "And then the change happens and the pain disappears. That's what I've heard, anyway. It's supposed to be... a beautiful experience."  

Suddenly an image of Derek composing sonnets and yelling at him from under a balcony popped into his head.

"Ok, I need a shower." Stiles rubbed at his eyes, trying not to look exasperated. Derek nodded this time, so Stiles got up and closed the door behind him. 

* * *

Stiles didn't think he'd ever washed himself so thoroughly, but he wanted to be ready for whatever kind of weird, kinky sex this heat might bring on. When he stepped out of the shower his heart pounded oddly and he felt panicky again. He reminded himself that he was about to have hot sex with a hot guy he liked, and that was really nothing to freak out about. But then he picked up his shirt and found he didn't know what to do. Should he even get dressed? Or should he just walk around naked for easy access? In the end he pulled on boxers and a t-shirt and decided he wasn't that bold. Not even close, actually.

After he brushed his teeth, he hesitantly peaked his head out of the door. Derek was sprawled on his stomach reading movie titles and looking at board games. He turned as soon as Stiles peaked out because apparently sneaking up on an alpha was an impossible feat. 

"You look... exhausted," Stiles noted with a pang of guilt. "Did you sleep at all when you were patrolling my house?" 

Derek sat up and didn't answer in a way that clearly meant _no, but I don't want to tell you that_. 

"Take a nap. Seriously. I'll wake you up if I really need you to sex me." 

"You will sleep a lot once it really starts." Derek shook his head. "I'll sleep when you do." 

"I will?" Stiles swallowed. There was so little he actually knew about what he was about to go through. 

Derek held up a DVD and distracted him from his mounting panic. "They have Batman. I know you have a Batman action figure in your room, if you want to watch it sometime this week." 

Stiles tried not to look ridiculous happy that Derek knew what kind of action figures were in his room. 

"I... do like Batman, actually." He wandered out a little ways into the room. 

"And Spiderman, right?" Derek grinned at him and held up another DVD. 

"Oh my god, not the _original,"_  Stiles moaned and scrambled the rest of the way across the room. He plopped down next to Derek and grabbed the movie out of his hands to examine the back. "This is the terrible one with Toby McGuire. I saw it when I was, like, eight. They remade it into the Amazing Spider Man, that one's much better. We should watch this just for mocking purposes." 

"Oh, they don't have those." Derek searched the DVD case. Stiles caught the slight smirk on his face as he turned away to look. "Werewolves love superhero movies, though. They're more relatable to us. There's tons of them in here." 

"How'd I miss them? Shit." Stiles bent over to search and found, as Derek had said, a shit ton. "Jesus, this is a totally different cabinet! I thought there was only one. The X-Men series? Oh fuck yes. I have these memorized." 

"Yeah, there's two." Derek was definitely smirking now but Stiles didn't care because they had _all_ the Batman movies. 

"We're marathoning," he said seriously, holding them up splayed like a fan. Derek chuckled, which Stiles chose to take as an agreement. 

Derek let him go on about superheroes for the next however long, nodding and occasionally asking questions while Stiles babbled. He started to feel kind of hazy and warm as he talked, his eyes wandering occasionally to places like Derek's pecs, or Derek's abs, or the slight bulge in Derek's jeans that Stiles was pretty sure his heat smell was responsible for. Stiles was halfway through explaining the backstory of X-men when he felt something... weird. 

"Oh." Stiles cut himself off. 

"What?" Derek perked up. He'd been watching Stiles stare at his nipples with obvious amusement.  

"I-- Oh my god, I think I'm... _wet_." 

Derek's expression melted from polite interest to open hunger.

"Oh."

"Deaton didn't say anything about this," Stiles said, feeling alarmed. He looked down between his legs like that would somehow accomplish anything. His boxers looked normal from the outside, though, with no visible wet spots.

"Let me see." Derek leaned forward eagerly. Stiles felt the blood drain from his face. 

"You serious?" 

"Yeah," Derek looked serious enough. "I want to." Stiles hadn't realized Derek's hand was rubbing his ankle until it trailed up his thigh as he gently pushed Stiles down into a lying position. 

"O-okay," Stiles stuttered, his heart hammering. Derek shifted between his legs and tugged his boxers up and over his hips in a smooth motion. Stiles's lower half was suddenly completely and totally bare to Derek's hungry gaze. The alpha inhaled deeply and bit his lower lip, his eyes flaring red. 

"You are." 

"You can  _smell_ it?" Stiles threw an arm over his eyes to hide his embarrassment. "Can someone please warn me about stuff like this in the future?" 

Covering his eyes turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to do. Derek spread his legs further and the next thing he felt was Derek's wet tongue lick along his hole, his warm breath teasing along the sensitive skin of his groin. Stiles jumped in surprise, but Derek kept his legs spread as Stiles squirmed. He licked over him again, this time delving in and loosening the tight ring of muscle. Stiles gasped at the feeling, still somewhat embarrassed but suddenly much more on board. A hot feeling was starting in the pool of his stomach, the kind of aching he recognized as something only Derek could fulfill. It was a slow, bone-deep feeling, and Stiles had a feeling it wasn't going to disappear anytime soon.

Derek growled and yanked his legs even farther apart, curling them up towards Stiles's chest, and pressed his tongue deeper into Stiles's core. A filthy, wrecked moan escaped Stiles's throat and Stiles squirmed again, trying to get away from the overstimulation. Derek held him down, pinning his hips to the ground to deny his escape.

Stiles jumped as he felt Derek's teeth close around the fleshy part of his ass, alternating between licking along his hole and biting his cheeks just hard enough for it to sting. Derek's groan hit Stiles right in the chest and he spread his legs a little, eager to hear Derek make that sound again, a little dazed that he was just as turned on by eating Stiles out as Stiles was by receiving it.

When Stiles finally got the guts to look down, his cock was full and bobbing against his stomach as Derek's dark hair moved between his legs. Derek seemed to feel Stiles watching him and leaned back to bite the inside of his thigh, meeting Stiles's eyes with his own burning red ones. He smirked at him before drawing one of Stiles's balls into his mouth and gently rolling it with his tongue, watching Stiles's reaction. Stiles was pretty sure he was going to faint again, this time from nothing more than Derek's mouth. 

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" Stiles panted, hypnotized. Watching Derek was... nothing should be that hot. Stiles could come just from the look of him -- his hair messy from Stiles's grabbing hands, his red-tinged eyes heavily lidded as he smirked at him.

"I hope not," Derek breathed, licking up the shaft of Stiles's dick before swallowing down the head. Derek bobbed once, twice, and then kissed down to take his balls back into the warm wetness of his mouth. Stiles jerked as spasms of want and pleasure sparked wherever Derek's mouth went, little moans and whimpers spilling out of his mouth to Derek's purrs of approval. 

Stiles came with Derek's tongue pressed into him, his mind whiting out the sight of his thighs squeezing around Derek's messy, black hair. Derek carefully drew back, milking white spurts from him with his hand. 

Derek was fumbling with the button to his own jeans when Stiles recovered from his mind-scrambling orgasm. Stiles feebly waved his hand to get his attention. 

"Oh! Dude, no... knotting. Yet. Uh. Deaton's working on something for me and we should be able to tomorrow." 

"Why? It helps your heat," Derek wondered, his hands still on his jeans. 

"Because with our luck I'll be pregnant with octuplets by the end of this," Stiles collapsed back on the ground, kitten-weak. "You know it's true." 

"So ready for me, though," Derek kissed along the inside of his knee, his red eyes glowing. "How about a toy?" 

Stiles swallowed hard at the thought, the sight of Derek so turned on almost pushing him over the edge again.

"I don't know... haven't other people used those?" 

"They're all clean. I'd be able to tell if they weren't." 

He nodded shakily. Derek stood, his jeans still unbuttoned and sliding down his hips as he looked through one of the cabinets. Stiles thought about mustering the energy to go look with him. 

"Oh, Stiles," Derek picked up the toy Stiles had been playing with before Derek and Deaton arrived at the heat house and turned slowly. "This one smells like you." He smiled wickedly at Stiles's flush of embarrassment. "Were you playing with it? Did you like it?" He pressed the button and watched the knot inflate with mild interest. Stiles watched too, his mouth watering at the sight. It was suddenly way hotter in Derek's hands. 

Stiles braced himself as Derek settled back between his knees, stroking a hand comfortingly along Stiles's inner thigh. 

"Do you want to watch?" Derek asked softly, his breath harsher than usual. Sweat gathered at his brow. "Or do you want to flip over?" 

"I--" Stiles felt speechless for once. He wasn't sure he could handle watching. He also wasn't sure he could handle _not_ watching what Derek was doing. 

Derek kissed the inside of his thigh again before Stiles felt him press the tip of the fake cock to his opening, just easing it in past the head. His hooded eyes watched Stiles's expression as he slid the toy in until Stiles felt the bump where the toy would inflate pass his rim. Derek smiled somewhat, stroking a hand over his hip, and tipped forward to hover over Stiles's body, one hand still manipulating the toy in his ass while he leaned his other arm next to Stiles's head. 

"Do you like it?" Derek asked breathily, his burning eyes trailing over Stiles's face with too much intensity. 

"I wish it was yours," escaped Stiles's mouth. The slow burn in his stomach had ignited at the feeling of being speared open, and the hazy arousal intensified to near unbearable _want._  "I want _your_ cock in me," Stiles groaned as Derek worked the toy inside him a little faster. Derek's breath caught at the words and he nipped affectionately at Stile's lower lip. Stiles opened easily for a sloppier kiss, panting with want and spreading his legs more for Derek's ease. Derek pushed the dick all the way in and paused. 

"Pretend it's mine," he whispered. "I want to see what you'll look like when I'm claiming you." 

Stiles groaned at the thought and tipped his chin back, closing his eyes to the fantasy. It wasn't hard -- Derek's body was pressed along his side, his breath on his neck -- to imagine the pumping pressure belonged to Derek. 

"Ah, oh god," Stiles whined, bucking against the toy. Derek went deeper and harder, and Stiles felt something building, a strange feeling. It crescendoed into a pulsing orgasm that had him clenching hard around the toy. As soon as Stiles cried out he felt the toy inflate inside him, filling him up and stretching him more than he thought he could take. There was no real pain, just a hot pressure that flared his orgasm further.

Once he fell from the high feeling, a strange emptiness settled in his chest and he had to lean forward to take great gulping breaths at Derek's neck, nuzzling at the delicious taste of salt on his neck. It helped somewhat.

"You ok?" Derek asked softly, nuzzling him back. 

"Yeah," Stiles panted. "Just need you." 

"It'll feel different later," Derek assured him, gently pulling the toy free to a gasp from Stiles. He bundled him up against his chest, sweaty and burning compared to Stiles's cool skin. Stiles appreciated the heat and moved into the embrace, tangling their legs and kissing along Derek's chest, tasting his salt again. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion crashed over him like a wave. 

Stiles snuck his hand down between them and into Derek's jeans. Derek groaned as Stiles took him into his grasp, pulling only a few times before Derek let a breath go like it was punched from him. Stiles felt spurts of come paint his wrist and hand. 

Stiles then promptly fell asleep to the feeling of Derek leaning his forehead against the top of his head and catching his breath.

* * *

When Stiles next woke up, the lights in the room had dimmed. There was only one thing on his mind: Derek. Sex with Derek. His cheeks slid unpleasantly against each other as he moved onto the sleeping body next to him. Derek was naked and clean and smelled so so good. He probably cleaned them both up while Stiles was out. Without even thinking about it, Stiles lined himself up with Derek's still-hard cock and dropped heavily in his lap with one stroke. They fit together perfectly, exactly what he needed -- far better than the cold toy. Derek burned inside of him and Stiles was ready for whatever the alpha could give him. He ground down against Derek's lap, enjoying the way the pressure relieved him of some bone-deep need. 

Derek slowly woke under him, restlessly moving in his sleep until he cracked his eyes and recognition flickered through his expression. He sat up quickly and grabbed Stiles hard by the arms, slowing his steady pace to a grind that left him whimpering. 

"Stiles," Derek breathed, "remember? We have to wait." Derek seemed to be easing Stiles off his cock and Stiles didn't know why, couldn't understand how his alpha could reject him _now_ of all times. He fought to stay on his lap, struggling against Derek's directions. Derek gasped and shuddered as Stiles squeezed him and thrust back more, trying to please the alpha. Derek's hands tightened and then loosened on his shoulders. 

"Fuck," Derek bit out, managing to look both aroused and frustrated. "Stiles, you don't want this." 

"I do," Stiles muttered. The alpha was wrong, so wrong. He didn't just want it -- he needed it. He could smell that Derek was everything he needed right now, filling up his mind. "Please, Derek." 

With a low growl, Derek flipped them and pinned Stiles's hands above his head. He withdrew completely from Stiles and Stiles complained loudly and wordlessly until Derek replaced his dick with his fingers, relieving some of his desperation. Stiles settled at the full feeling and rocked against Derek's fingers to show his agreement with the new situation. Derek was so close, longing and desire clear in the way he looked at him. Stiles struggled again to rear up and open for the alpha. Derek met his lips urgently and Stiles came quickly after with a shout. 

When he could finally focus, it was on the sight of Derek stripping himself on Stiles's stomach. Derek looked intense even doing something like this. Once he finished, Stiles experimentally touched the white liquid splattering his chest and Derek sank back onto his heels, breathing hard. 

"Holy shit... what _was_ that?" Stiles wondered, still panting through the aftermath. 

"Our bodies need to feel each other. It's chemical. Without knotting, your body thinks you're alone. We're not supposed to go through this alone." Derek carefully smeared the come on Stiles's stomach onto his hand and then massaged the liquid into Stiles's softening length. "This might help for now." 

"Well, thanks for keeping your head. I was acting... really crazy. I was all ready to have your alpha babies." Stiles vigorously rubbed more of Derek's come on his cock, wanting to avoid that dangerous headspace again. When Derek didn't respond next to him, he glanced over and found that Derek looked kind of stunned and...  _turned on_ again.

"That... you like that." Stiles was almost afraid to say it because then Derek might confirm it. Derek cleared his throat uncomfortably. He pulled tissues from a box he must have gotten for them while Stiles was sleeping and wiped them both clean of any remaining dampness. It was dark in the room, but Stiles could still make out the flush on his skin, spreading over his chest and neck. 

"Oh my god. You _want_ me to have your alpha babies!" Stiles accused, part amused, part flattered, part terrified.

"I said I wanted you to be my mate," Derek sputtered finally, looking more embarrassed.

"I think this is as flustered as I've ever seen you. You must really want it," Stiles grinned at him as an idea formed in his head. "Alright. As long as it's a fantasy, I can work with that." 

Derek narrowed his eyes at him, clutching the tissue tightly in one fist now.

"What does that mean?"

"It means... that now I know your cute little domestic fantasy is to _actually_ knock me up," Stiles laughed with exhilaration, feeling for once like he had the upper hand. "And I can work with that. As a fantasy, anyway."

"I still don't know what you mean," Derek grumbled, tossing the tissue at a trashcan on the other side of the room and getting it in perfectly, the bastard, before settling behind Stiles and wrapping a protective arm around him. Stiles had a feeling he chose the position so that they wouldn't be facing each other anymore. "Go to sleep."  

* * *

Stiles woke up to Derek sucking him off. He mewled his way through one of the best orgasms he'd ever experienced, made better by Derek fingering him as Stiles came in his mouth. His ass was definitely more sensitive and essential to the heat sex process than when he'd experimented with it on his own before he became a werewolf. 

It definitely took the edge off. 

They managed to get through two Batman movies in a day, which, between all the sex and Stiles's new brand of sex-induced narcolepsy, was quite a feat. Stiles had a hard time not climbing Derek like a tree every waking moment, but quoting Batman nonstop was a pretty excellent second option. Derek didn't even get tired of it the way Scott would, and seemed to find it... _funny_. It was a small miracle. 

"We might actually be soul mates if you can handle me when I watch Batman," Stiles sprawled back comfortably on his chest and pulled the blanket tighter around his middle. He didn't mind the IV anymore. "Scott can't even do it." 

"Told you," Derek sounded smug as he idly stroked up Stiles's belly. Derek seemed to enjoy just touching Stiles, even if they weren't having sex. Stiles had been sitting next to him before the movie started, minding his own business in one of their rare moments of clarity, and somehow fifteen minutes in he'd ended up in Derek's lap. Derek scented his neck and felt along any length of naked skin he could find, possessively cradling Stiles to him as Stiles chattered along with the actors.

The phone rang as the credits were rolling across the screen, luckily, and Stiles was starting to feel a little warm in his special places again. Derek gently but quickly upended him onto his pile of blankets and pillows and sped over to it. Stiles couldn't help laughing as he untangled himself from the knots of blanket. The guy's restraint had been truly admirable, but Stiles could tell how much he wanted to get Stiles under him. 

"Yes? We're... we'll be decent by then. Come over." 

"Deaton? Oh fuck yes." Derek wasn't the only impatient one. Stiles had been thinking pretty much nonstop about getting Derek's dick in him, and the guy hadn't exactly made it easy with his teasing. He liked Stiles to tell him how much he'd been thinking about it -- loudly and a lot. 

"Pants," Derek threw him his as he pulled on his own. Stiles noted that it was oddly uncomfortable to pull his boxers on after a near solid day of nudity. He certainly wasn't pleased that Derek was covering up any part of his magnificent body, and his instincts were screaming in indignation. Stiles appeased them by looping an arm around Derek's narrow waist and nuzzling into his neck for another dose of that amazing scent. 

A few minutes later of cuddling and nuzzling, they heard Deaton come up to the door. Derek let him in and Deaton waved casually at them both. Stiles Felt uncomfortable letting someone else into what must be a veritable cloud of their heat pheromones, but he attempted a casual wave in return.

"Shot." Deaton held up a syringe of something. "Should have you covered for the rest of your heat. It's immediately effective, but you can give it a few hours if you're worried." 

"You're a saint," Stiles said seriously, holding his arm out immediately. "Apparently this knotting business is more important than I'd realized." 

Deaton chuckled and glanced at Derek, who seemed to be doing his best not to comment on the situation. 

"How's everything else going?" Deaton asked him. 

"Oh, Deaton." Stiles sighed, gathering his strength and patience. "Thank you, and you're _amazing_ , but we've been waiting like twenty hours for this and I can't hold a conversation right now." Stiles then physically manhandled Deaton out the door and waved apologetically at the startled doctor before shutting the door. 

 


	12. The Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting back on schedule now, but this chapter is super short. Thanks for reading!

The moment the door closed, Stile rounded on Derek. Stiles shoved his boxers off in one movement, wasting no time. 

"We're never wearing clothes again, right?" Stiles asked as they both went for Derek's pants at the same time and their fingers collided on the buttons. 

"Never," Derek agreed. His heart didn't even skip, bless him. 

"Oh my god. I don't even know what I want," Stiles babbled as they finally uncovered Derek's dick and Stiles chased the alpha's mouth as Derek kicked his pants away. "Like, back? Front? Me on top? You on top? In the air? The wall? On the moon? The possibilities are endless." 

"We have time for all of it," Derek sighed into his mouth, his hands urgently grasping along Stiles's body until they both tumbled down to the ground. Then he paused and cracked a grin. "Maybe not the moon." 

"Ngh. What do you want first?" 

"Like this." Derek flipped Stiles and blanketed his back, his dick settling between Stiles's thighs. Stiles shivered at the position and yelped as Derek bit his shoulder, his teeth sharpening for a moment and blunting again before they could break the skin. Stiles keened and tilted his head back for the alpha to do it again, his skin burning against Derek's hot body. 

"Jesus, Stiles... you look..." Derek trailed off, but Stiles felt Derek's fingers spasm with claws before returning to blunt human nails against his hips. 

"Ah, Derek. Seriously. _Now_  would be good." 

Derek bit along his shoulder again, groaning as he buried himself in Stiles. Stiles gasped at the sudden fullness, then moaned and knocked onto his elbows as Derek immediately pulled back and thrust in. 

"Slow," Stiles breathed, still adjusting. Derek gentled, smoothing his hand along Stiles's lower back and anchoring at his hips as he ground into him once more. Stiles closed his eyes to the amazing feeling, so different from everything else they'd done so far. This felt right, like a lock and key, his body singing with relief from the never-ending burn in the pit of his stomach.  

Stiles pushed back against Derek when he was ready for more, signaling the alpha to up his pace. Derek spread Stiles's legs with clawed hands and Stiles gasped as an amazing scent hit his nose. It was another variation of Derek's quintessential scent; it loosened Stiles's chest and spun his head with more arousal than he thought his body could handle. It had him moaning loudly and opening for Derek more, scrabbling back toward the alpha with clawed hands of his own as the shift rippled over him uncontrollably. 

Derek tugged him up, pressing his chest against Stiles's back, and snarled against his neck as he sunk deep. Stiles cried out at feeling the burning alpha so far inside. He went weak against Derek's chest, grabbing at his hair to keep himself up through Derek's relentless pounding. 

Derek slowed somewhat to play with Stiles's cock, stripping him in time with his thrusts until Stiles was nearly incoherent with his pleas for Derek to bring them both to the brink. Derek nuzzled along his neck as he renewed his strength and speed. Stiles felt something start to catch at his rim. 

Derek shouted against his skin as the knot started to take, his arms trapping Stiles against his shuddering body and leaving him helpless as to the experience. Stiles pushed back into him, something primitive in him loving the way the alpha crushed them together. Stiles closed his eyes to the increasing pressure in his ass, edging along an orgasm of his own, and managed to get a hand along his cock to bring himself off. Derek moaned softly as Stiles tightened around him, burying his face in Stiles's hair, his breath hot against Stiles's skin. They both shook and trembled for a few moments, locked together, before Derek's started to relax and ease them both to the ground. Stiles's thighs shook as they were finally relieved from the pressure of keeping them both up. Stiles could tell from the way the knot tugged at his rim that they'd be stuck together until it went down. He couldn't be happier, his body relaxed in a way it hadn't been since the start of his heat. 

He fell asleep before Derek even said anything, the alpha mouthing lazily and affectionately along the back of his neck. 

* * *

It wasn't until the next morning that Stiles woke up. He felt more physically refreshed, though he was somewhat grossed out by the amount of cleanup necessary. He eventually got tired of trying to clean himself and decided to just stand in the shower for a while. Derek surprised him when he came in. He yawned as he opened the door to the bathroom and walked in to the shower with him. 

"How can you even produce this much come?" Stiles wanted to know. 

Derek grunted sleepily and kissed Stiles before washing himself off under the spray. Derek and water would never stop being hot to Stiles, but Derek didn't seem to be up for anything sexual yet.  

Stiles had never showered with another person. It turned out to be more affectionate than sexy, with Derek washing his back for him and soaping his chest in sweet way. Derek was even more cuddly, if it was possible, pushing his nose against Stiles's skin from time to time and finding reasons to touch his body. 

"What's up?" Stiles laughed when Derek finally gave up pretense and just grabbed him from behind, nuzzling aggressively into his skin.

"Smell like you're mine now," Derek admitted, something of a content purr.

"Did my scent change?" Stiles wondered with some concern. Their scents had a way of signaling weird things. 

Derek shook his head, quiet.

"Just... us. Together." Derek pressed a kiss to the edge of his ear. "Don't wash too much." 

"Dude," Stiles whined. He shut off the shower once Derek finished washing his hair. They toweled off together and then Stiles put on the last Batman movie in their possession, settling down into Derek's lap with plenty of blankets and pillows. Derek sighed in content next to his cheek. 

Stiles could somewhat smell what Derek was talking about -- the mingling of their scents. They were still distinct, but they complimented each other in a pleasing way that settled him and lulled him into a sense of almost total contentment. Stiles ended up nuzzling and cuddling Derek almost as much as the alpha doted on him, somehow missing entire parts of the movie to lazily make out on the mattress floor. As a general rule, Stiles didn't miss Batman ever. But he didn't care this time. 

Eventually they ended up pausing the movie so Stiles could ride Derek in his lap -- slow this time, full of more lazy kissing and gentle caresses. 

"You gonna knot me?" Stiles asked, breathless as Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles's shoulder and exhaled shakily. Derek bit at his shoulder in response. 

"Trying to knock me up?" Stiles asked cheekily, grinding down on Derek as the alpha jerked his head up, looking confused. 

"We can't--" 

"Yeah." Stiles grinned at him. "Just pretend, though." 

Derek's whole face transformed and the alpha looked mesmerized, his hands traveling down from Stiles's hips to his ass to spur their pace into something deeper and harder. 

"Mmm, yeah." Stiles wracked his mind for something sexy to say. He'd never thought of pregnancy as a good thing the way Derek did, rather something to avoid at all costs. His father had thrown condoms at him since he was fourteen and regularly scared the crap out of him with teen pregnancy stories -- most of which had been intended to keep _him_ from knocking someone else up. Oh, how the tables had turned. Now someone actually wanted to have a kid with him. Jesus.

"You want to... breed... me?" Is what eventually came out.  
  
Derek's breath caught and his eyes flared red. He stared at Stiles's mouth, and Stiles wondered if maybe that was too much, not sexy like he intended. He waited for Derek to cringe in secondhand embarrassment for him. Instead, Derek clutched at him harder and pulled Stiles tight against him as Stiles felt his knot swell suddenly. 

"Oh, jesus. No kidding," Stiles murmured to the strange yet perfect feeling, his eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. Derek seemed to growl or purr or something rumbly against him as they folded against each other, Stiles warm and happily stuck. He nuzzled against Derek's neck, inhaling the scent of _Derek_ and _them_. He felt deeply wanted and secure as Derek stroked down his back. 

He was so consumed by knotting and scent feelings that he didn't even know what he was doing when he heard Derek's quick intake of breath and felt him jerk under him. Derek's hand closed around the nape of his neck, tight with urgency, and only then did Stiles realize he could taste blood in his mouth. He jumped, dislodging his teeth from Derek's shoulder, and horror slowly sunk into his chest and replaced all those warm, fuzzy feelings. 

Derek looked dazed as he ran a hand over where Stiles had bitten him. It was already quickly healing over. His eyes never left Stiles's face as he touched the wound carefully. As Stiles watched, the bite didn't heal completely into smooth skin, but instead became ridges that matched the imprint of his teeth. 

Stiles searched for words to explain what he'd done, or at least an apology. He was still speared on Derek's knot and unable to sit back away from him, though he felt like he should. Derek didn't look angry -- just searching and confused -- but Stiles felt horrible. 

"What... I'm so... sorry," Stiles started haltingly. 

Derek remained wordless, his fingers tracing the new pattern on his neck as he watched Stiles. 

"I didn't mean to. I don't know why I did that." 

Derek looked down between them, his mouth quirking with a rueful smile before he shook his head. 

"Don't. Just come here." He pulled Stiles carefully back into their embrace. Stiles went, unsure what else to do and feeling immensely guilty as he curled tightly around Derek's chest. Derek sighed against his shoulder. "It will fade with time if I don't complete the process by biting you too." 

Stiles squeezed Derek hard in relief, tears gathering at his eyes. 

"So... I didn't fuck this up?" 

"You really couldn't," Derek murmured against him. "I told you: I want your bite, Stiles."  


	13. The One

Stiles quietly finished the movie with Derek as they waited for the knot to go down, and even dropped off into sleep for a couple of hours afterwards. When he woke up, Derek was lying next to him reading a book and running a gentle hand through his hair. 

Stiles was ready to climb onto Derek's lap again, but found himself paralyzed with fear that he would bite the alpha... or possibly something worse... if he lost himself too much again. Derek kissed him as soon as he noticed his eyes open, used to Stiles waking up randy, and tugged at his hips to ease them into his lap. Stiles resisted and Derek let him go without a fuss. Stiles flipped instead, letting Derek press him into the mattress from behind. It felt safer when Derek knotted him, when his hands spasmed into claws and his teeth itched, to stare at the mattress instead of Derek's bizarrely tempting throat. 

Afterwards Derek pulled him into the bathroom to the jacuzzi Stiles had all but completely forgotten about. Sliding into the hot water improved his mood somewhat. He couldn't help but look at the mark on Derek's neck as the alpha relaxed completely in the water, tilting his head back and exposing his throat with the gesture. Derek seemed to feel him staring, though, and caught him. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I'm just a terrible werewolf, aren't I?" Stiles blurted miserably. "This is like when I walked into your house, only worse. I _scarred_ you." Stiles gestured at the bite mark. "What is _wrong_ with me?" 

Derek put a hand to the mark and seemed to consider Stiles's words for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. 

"This will fade," Derek said simply. "And there's nothing wrong with you." Derek stretched his arms out around the tub and one hand came to rest behind Stiles's shoulders. "You're fighting your instincts, but you still feel them, powerfully. Maybe more than others because we're true mates and the urge to answer that is... strong. I feel it in me too."

"You've been biting me pretty much constantly, though, and you never broke the skin like I did," Stiles pointed out glumly. "Maybe I should go to werewolf bootcamp or something. I'm just so bad at this." 

Derek shook his head, huffing a laugh.

"I walk with my instincts. I listen to them, even if I don't always act on them. So even around you -- and you do make me crazy Stiles -- I still have control. Like when you ran off the territory -- my instincts were to follow, even though my head was telling me to give you space. I had a feeling you'd be in danger, especially when you were distressed and not thinking clearly, and I felt a powerful urge to protect my mate... or, my future mate." Derek seemed to catch himself and add the last part for Stiles's benefit. "I see you fighting your instincts at nearly every opportunity. One of your biggest strengths is your ability to be logical, but that might come at the cost of distancing yourself from your emotions. I'm the opposite, and it's something I've never struggled with. Maybe it's because I grew up as a lycanthrope, or maybe it's just our personality difference, I don't know. It seems like you're still trying to pretend you're the same person you were before the change. That's just pretend. We work differently, we follow different rules. You can never be human Stiles again. You need to learn who you are now." 

Stiles looked down at the water, watching the way the steam curled up. Derek's fingers brushed the back of his shoulder and a shiver ran through him at the touch. 

"Just... listen to your body more. You can't hurt me, I promise." 

"Ok. Say my body wants to bite you." Stiles closed his eyes. It was still there, sizzling in his belly, that sharp desire to mate Derek. "And I'm not ready for what that means." He opened his eyes. "So... what do I do?" 

"See, this is why we don't date," Derek pointed out, looking a little vindicated. "We just know, Stiles. Scent tells us so much about a person, more than we can even put into words. We trust it." 

"Dude." Stiles sank into the water. This werewolf business was exhausting and confusing and too different from what he grew up knowing about himself. "What do I _do_?" 

Derek sighed, his face softening. 

"Like I said, I don't always do what my instincts tell me to do. But I do acknowledge them. You need to lean in, not away, from whatever's scaring you about being a lycanthrope." 

"Everything." Stiles closed his eyes again, the mess of feelings inside him like an icy tornado raging through his chest. He realized it was true as he said it, more true than he wanted to admit out loud. He did, anyway, because it was Derek. "Everything scares me." 

"It's just you." Derek's voice was soft. "Why would you be afraid of yourself?" 

"I don't even recognize myself anymore."  

He felt Derek's body slide up next to him, lips touching along his hairline before the alpha leaned their heads together and wrapped his arm securely around Stiles's shoulder. Stiles didn't open his eyes for a long time. 

* * *

Derek got to pick the next movie. It turned out to be something dramatic and dark and artsy and... ok, pretty good. Stiles spent most of his time watching Derek's face instead of the movie though, memorizing the shape of his nose and the way his lips parted with excitement and his heartbeat sped up with the drama of the film. He'd had a crush on the alpha for a while, pretty much since he came to visit him after the trial, but now he saw Derek with different eyes. He tried to combine what he thought he should feel for him -- still a relatively new friend and boyfriend-thing -- to what his body recognized him as -- someone he was deeply comfortable with, someone he felt like he'd known far longer than he actually had. The problem was that it was just a feeling; it wasn't something that he could back up with facts and evidence and moments that he could point to and say "this, right here, is why I like you so much,". He had reasons to like Derek, sure, but he couldn't justify how incredibly strong those feelings were, and that's why he didn't trust it. He felt like his body was tricking him. His trust in Derek as a person was mostly restored, however, given how well Derek had been taking care of him (even when he couldn't control himself) during his heat. 

Derek caught on to Stiles's strange behavior when Stiles once more rolled over as Derek tried to initiate sex. 

"I want to look at you," Derek gently nudged his shoulder to roll him back over. "I like seeing you when I come." 

Stiles didn't go, though, searching for an excuse. It took him too long and Stiles saw the moment Derek figured it out. 

"You're hiding from me," Derek accused, sounding disappointed. Stiles tensed at the words. He hunched his shoulders and stared at the floor to avoid the alpha's disappointment. 

"I _bit_ you." 

"Stiles," Derek sounded exasperated as he slipped under him and partially lifted Stiles until he was sitting on his stomach, looking down at him. "I'm not going to look at just your back until we mate. We're working through this right now." 

"I don't --" 

"Just bite me," Derek shrugged one shoulder, his expression bland. "It stings, but it's a good feeling. I don't mind." 

"What?" Stiles leaned back against Derek's bent knees. "Are you kidding me?" 

"There's no reason to be afraid of this. You won't hurt me," Derek insisted.

Stiles chewed the inside of his cheek. 

"Go towards your instincts, not away. Let them pass through you," Derek's thumb swiped over the top of Stiles's thigh as his hands rested there. 

It was like standing at a cliff and looking down. He could step out into the air and hope there was an invisible bridge he couldn't see, or he could stay on the ledge, still afraid and unsure but relatively safe. He'd be insane to step out into the air -- then he'd really be something different: a lycanthrope. He might fall into these new instincts and become someone else. But on the other hand, if he trusted what Derek was telling him, he might finally have control back over his own body and his own mind. And Stiles wanted his control back more than anything.

"I don't know if I'll like what I find," Stiles whispered.

" _I_ like it," Derek quirked his lips in a half smile, his hands smoothing to the sides of his thighs where he lifted Stiles somewhat and lowered him back onto his length. "I like you." 

They started slow, rocking together to the sound of their breathing synching up. Stiles leaned his weight on Derek's chest, which at first he thought would be uncomfortable for the alpha but had found, to some disgust, that Derek was way too ripped to be bothered by his wiry body weight. 

It escalated quickly, as it always seemed to do. Soon Stiles was thrusting back into him desperately and Derek was clawing at him to flip them so he could really pound into him. Derek had Stiles's legs slung up around his biceps when Stiles started to feel Derek's knot catch and his own teeth itch. He felt panicky at first -- the mess of desires inside him was still almost impossible to shift through and organize and name -- but he forced himself to relax into it rather than push it down.

Derek grinned breathlessly, his eyes flaring red in answer to Stiles's shift. It thrilled Stiles to see his mate reflect his desire back at him like that, to smell the spike of arousal between them as they both shifted to their true forms. Derek had been pinning his hands to the bed but he released them, claws and all, to scratch quickly healing strips down his back. Derek winced, but his smile grew as his eyes glowed a violent red again and the alpha tilted his chin and bared his throat. 

Stiles took a shaky breath at the invitation. Derek was heating him from the inside, the spark that made him so wild catching inside Stiles too, and he knew now that he wanted nothing more than to mark up the alpha, claim him as irrevocably _his_.

He leaned in, the scent of Derek so strong there that it spun his head, and bit down. His chest swelled with exhilaration and pride. Derek knotted him in the next seconds with a gasp, and Stiles followed at the feeling of Derek filling him so well.  

Derek's hips slowed to a grind. Stiles could feel Derek pulsing inside him as he licked along his bite mark, shuddering with relief when he traced the raised skin there without tasting blood. He'd kept enough of his control to keep the bite shallow, not the deep wound that he'd mindlessly inflicted on him before.

"Like to scratch me too, huh?" 

"Seems like it," Stiles panted shakily. "Guess that's a thing I'm into now. Jesus." 

"Kinda liked it," Derek smirked at him. "Good thing we heal easy. Don't need it for my shoulder this time, though." Derek nuzzled at him, seeming surprisingly lighthearted, and sagged against his body. Derek released Stiles's legs from his insanely muscled arms and Stiles stretched his legs out, pointing his toes to ease through the cramps of being pressed like that for too long. 

Stiles nodded, still feeling uncertain and high on the adrenaline of letting himself go like that. Derek nuzzled at him and kissed along his jaw until Stiles finally relaxed like Derek, wrapping his arms around the alpha and listening to his heartbeat return to normal. 

"That was good," Derek reassured him. He rested his face against Stiles's chest with a sigh. "We'll keep working on it." 

It was terrifying, but Stiles was glad he had Derek to help him through it. 

* * *

Sex got easier after that. Stiles kind of lost track, between the hard and fast, slow and sweet. They did it all like Derek had promised -- up against the wall, in the shower. Derek even knotted his mouth in the jacuzzi and Stiles learned exactly how much come the alpha could produce. 

Stiles started to feel the heat ebb away the next day. The near-constant burning arousal in his low abdomen, a sharp contrast to his otherwise cold body, started flickering and even disappearing altogether for periods of time. Especially when they were playing monopoly and Derek beat him badly. There was no way he was letting the fucker knot him after that humiliation.

Generally, knotting was great, though. Stiles most liked the waiting time after when they would just talk. Derek would play with his hair or groom him in some weird and strangely intimate way while he talked idly about his life before Stiles arrived at the territory. Derek told him about the sister Stiles never knew he had ( _See? Your family's crazy fertile, dude. Octuplets, Derek. I swear._ ). She had inherited the alpha trait too and moved to another pack when they lost their alpha, so Derek only saw her a few times a year now. Stiles also finally learned why Derek didn't sleep in pack piles. 

"It's too dangerous." Derek shook his head. "After what happened to my parents, I sleep alone. If someone wants me that bad, I only want them to take me, not the whole pack."

"What about me?" Stiles blurted before he could really consider the implications of such a statement. "Where will I sleep then? I want to sleep with you." 

Derek seemed serious even as Stiles replayed what he'd said in his head and wanted to stab himself in the knee. 

"Being my mate will come with... very real danger." 

"When... _if_ I'm your mate, then I'll take it." Stiles shook his head. "No way am I sleeping away from you when you're actually back on the territory. You're gone so much, I'll go crazy if we have to sleep apart even when you're here." 

Derek swallowed, lowering his eyes to the level of Stiles's chest.

"I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I don't want anything to happen to _you,_ " Stiles scoffed. "You think I'll sleep better knowing that I wouldn't even have a chance of protecting you if someone came after you?" 

Derek sighed and let Stiles kiss him. 

* * *

Derek seemed to be able to tell before Stiles could that Stiles was done with his heat. He sniffed at his neck as they tried to play Speed while tied together (it was a terrible idea, they found out), and kind of moaned softly in a way that peaked Stiles's interest. 

"What?" 

"Are you hot?" 

Stiles hadn't noticed until he said it, but he was sweating for the first time in a week. It felt sweltering in the room. 

"Burning up, dude. Is this... have you been putting up with all week? You have the patience of a saint." 

"Worth it." Derek sighed, sounding sad. "I guess you're done."

"Oh my god! I'm _alive_. We did it." Stiles could have cheered he was so excited. He did a little lying down dance instead, shaking his shoulders and shimmying until he jostled the knot still inside him and hissed in unintentional pleasure. Derek seemed to ignore his wiggling. 

"You're _alive_? What did you think was going to happen?" 

"I was pretty sure one of us was going to end up murdering each other. Mine would be in self-defense, of course. A week in a tiny room with me? I don't envy you." 

"Stiles," Derek sounded reproachful so Stiles pushed his butt against him to cut him off with a gasp.

"I know, I know, you love me and my freaky, self-lubricating asshole." 

"Yes," Derek purred into his neck, missing his sarcasm. 

"And we're soul mates. Yadda yadda. Perfect scents." Stiles closed his eyes, smiling somewhat. 

"Exactly." 

"I'll... I'll miss it," yet another surprising revelation. He, too, was _sad_ his heat was ending. Quite a change, considering how freaked out he'd been at the start. "You... you really did what you said. It was good. It was amazing, actually."  

Derek nuzzled him quietly and Stiles could feel his smile against his skin. 

"You're still going to like me now that I don't smell like sex all the time, right?" Stiles asked.  

"I like you all the time." 

"Yeah, but you love my smell." Stiles frowned. "What if it changes after this?" 

"I like more than just your smell." 

"But you want to _mate_ me for my smell." 

"Stiles." Derek sounded frustrated. 

"It's just that I think about all these things -- like what you were saying about the pack being part of you, and all your responsibilities, and the fact that you spend like five days off the territory routinely and that really sucks for me. How is this all going to work? You just smell me and say it'll work out, but have you thought about this stuff?" 

"You think I don't worry about that?" Derek lifted up behind him and Stiles twisted to face him. He looked as frustrated as he sounded. 

"Seems like all those worries just disappeared when you heard we were true mates, though." 

"They didn't disappear. I have doubts too." Derek glared at him. 

"Like what?" 

Derek seemed to struggle to respond. 

"See? You're totally blinded by your nose. Wait, is it still blind when it's your nose?" 

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically and propped himself up with one arm.  

"You're young, especially by lycanthrope standards," Derek listed, popping one finger up to indicate clearly that there were more. "You're more impulsive than you'll be when you grow older, among other things. I'm still worried about how you'll handle the pack -- you need to develop the same love that I have for them, and there's no guarantee that you will. You like to push my buttons at the wrong times. I'm also not sure you'll be able to support me the way I need." 

"Oh great," Stiles deflated. "Ok, you're not blinded by your nose. You're just better at pretending you are." 

"I'm willing to take the risk that we'll figure that stuff out," Derek calmed somewhat at Stiles's change in attitude. "That the essence of you will stay the same even when you get older, that you'll learn to love the pack like I do, and that you'll listen to what I need the way I'll try to listen to you." 

Stiles pressed his back into the alpha's chest, tucking his chin to hide how affected he was. Derek's brand of outspoken romanticism was starting to really grow on Stiles. At first he'd found it impractical and short sighted, but now it was just charming. 

"You're just... going to roll the dice on that stuff? Doesn't that scare you?" It scared Stiles. 

"I trust my gut on this." Derek carded a hand through his hair. "No one can ever be completely sure. Everyone takes a risk when they commit to someone." 

Stiles caught Derek's hand and pulled it to his lips. The heavenly smell of his wrist eased some of the ache in his chest and gave him the strength to admit, "I'm not sure yet... but I like the way you talk about us." 

Stiles thought about Lydia, cool headed and almost painfully distant, who he'd been obsessed with for most of his life. Derek was almost her opposite, proclaiming his feelings all over the place and promising himself to Stiles with such confidence. Funny how two completely different people could both be so attractive to him. It was definitely nice to be on the receiving end for once. 

"What do you want?" Derek asked softly. 

"It's... isn't it weird for you to have this conversation with your dick still stuck in me?" 

"No," Derek said petulantly. "Don't avoid the question." 

Stiles sighed. 

"I want someone who likes the same things I do, or at least tries to enjoy stuff with me. Someone who gets my shitty sense of humor. Someone who can help make the awkward situations that are my life somehow okay. Someone I can rely on. Someone... who waits outside my house to tackle mailmen and watches Batman with me." 

Derek's hand stroked over his lips, gentle and sweet. Stiles glanced up at the alpha and almost couldn't handle what he found. 

"I want you. I just need some time, that's all." 

"You can have it," Derek leaned to kiss him. "I'm not in a rush." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah thanks for your continued patience. Check back in in two days for the final chapter :). Please leave any burning questions in the comments section so I can make sure the story wraps them up before the end.


	14. The Treehouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who kept up with this story and left your thoughts! I really enjoyed some of the speculation. Sometimes people were spot on, and sometimes there were ideas I wish I had thought of, lol. You've been amazing and thanks for waiting on this last chapter!

It was a little dream like, leaving the heat house with Derek. He wasn't done processing the last few days, and now they were over. It was cold outside as winter edged itself into fall. The cold no longer bothered him, though, and he had no problem walking along the path in nothing but his t-shirt. Derek was quiet next to him. Stiles swept his thumb along the back of Derek's hand and smiled at him a little to break him from his reverie. 

"Right now, you, Deaton, and I are the only ones who know about us," Derek said, looking down at their hands. "Deaton will keep your medical confidentiality. Generally speaking, though, what one person knows in the pack, everyone knows. These things have a way of uncovering themselves."

"So I've heard." 

"What do you want to do?" 

It wasn't the first time Stiles had thought about it. He already had quite a reputation with the pack -- stalking the alpha the first week, trying to assassinate him, then _not_ trying to assassinate him, then being the only man with infatuation in the pack's living memory. They'd taken it all in stride and still welcomed him into their ranks. 

"Do you think they'll care?" 

"The alpha taking a mate... that's a celebration. The idea of true mates is more legend than reality for many of us. We're too segregated from the human world for there to be many opportunities for a werewolf to meet their true mate. Deaton said the last case lived only in the great elder's memories, close to a hundred years ago, and for same-sex partners it's been longer than that. I imagine the pack will be ecstatic for us." 

"Ok, that's good to know." Stiles chewed the inside of his cheek while he came to his decision. "When I thought I was just an experiment, I felt like an intruder here -- like I wasn't really a werewolf, just a fake." Derek's hand tightened around his and Stiles continued on quickly. "But I don't feel like that with this. I think it's ok... for people to know what I am and what we are." 

"I'm glad." Derek bumped their shoulders together and Stiles swiped his thumb over the back of his hand in answer. 

"And what about my transforming plumbing?" Stiles ventured, sarcastic to hide his very real worry.

"If anyone has a problem with that, I'll have a conversation with them. Your ability to conceive is a blessing." Derek's eyes glowed red as he growled the threat into the air. "But I don't foresee that as an issue. The real tension will exist around our decision to... date." 

"Really?" Stiles found himself laughing. "So, magical uteruses are no big thing, but the pack will be pissed we didn't get married right away? This place, man." 

"We may have to defend our decision to the elder council," Derek said quietly, not sharing in Stiles's mirth. 

"What?" Stiles stopped and yanked Derek to a stop next to him. "Are you _serious_? They're _that_ involved in your love life?"

"They may see the human custom as unhealthy, not suited to our nature. A resistance." Derek sighed. "They may be concerned it reflects an unhealthy relationship between us and a fixation with acting human rather than embracing our lycanthrope instincts. As the alpha, it's especially important for me to set an example of a healthy relationship for the pack." Derek looked at him, serious like all the weight of his responsibilities had crashed back on his shoulders as they stepped out of the heat house. Stiles felt the sudden urge to take some of that weight off. 

"Don't worry, honey." Stiles smiled and touched his cheek gently. "I'll do the talking."

Derek arched a speculative eyebrow, but his mouth quirked with some amusement.

"Confident you can handle the grilling?"

"In my ability to convince people I'm unprepared for a job? You betcha."

"Stiles." Derek's eyes widened with worry.

"I'm kidding. Jeez." Stiles grinned at him. "I do want to eventually be your mate so I'll try to tone my natural talents down."

* * *

It was exactly as bad as Derek said it would be. 

Derek gathered the elders in the Main House and Stiles shivered at the memory of his tribunal as they took their seats in an eerily similar formation. The biggest difference was that Stiles sat next to Derek on the guilty side this time, and Derek's presence was infinitely more settling than Scott's had been. The vast hall echoed with the sounds of their breathing and shifting and Stiles's heart pounding way too loud. 

Derek spoke first, explaining the how and why of Stiles's freak out. The elder's expressions transformed into wonder and joy as Derek said the words "true mate". Maria even gasped, her eyes filling with tears. It was all very dramatic. It unsettled Stiles to watch his relationship with Derek have such a profound impact on the older werewolves. This obviously wasn't going to be easy. 

They asked several questions in hushed tones, all of which Derek answered briefly.

"I see that Derek has a mating bite," Peter noted, looking between them. "And you, Stiles, do not." 

Peter's words hung in the air as all eyes went to him. Derek seemed frozen next to him. 

"I broke pack confidence with my father." Stiles decided to lead with his most terrible offense so they wouldn't question the next part of his point. "I'm not ready to become an alpha's mate and take on the responsibilities that come with it. I'm sorry. But Derek's made it clear to me that I'll have to learn if I want to be with him, so from here on out that will be my focus."

"Stiles..." Maria smiled gently. "We all have broken pack confidence before." 

Stiles stared at her. 

"Most of us come from human families, human friends," Deaton added. "It's nothing to be proud of, but secrecy is unequivocally the most difficult part of the transition to the pack." 

"Why do you think Nela has a job?" Peter rolled his eyes, less gentle. 

"We would not hold that as a reason to refuse the mating call," Maria said softly, her eyes shining. "We give our full blessing for you two to mate immediately." 

Stiles glanced at Derek, who looked all but ready to shrug at him. 

"I told him everything. Scenting. Alphas. Pack piles. I'm a menace. You're not even going to punish me?" 

"Yes." Maria seemed to smile more. "The usual punishment would be counseling with the alpha. We would be happy to require that of you, Stiles. And we're hardly worried about your father, he's been a friend to the pack for twenty years now. That law is specifically designed to protect us from those who would see us as even more 'other' and seek to build a movement against us." 

Derek seemed to sigh next to him as Stiles gaped at her. 

"You all kidding me?" 

"Stiles," Derek breathed, his eyes going to the ceiling in exasperation. 

"You really want an eighteen-year-old kid who just got here to take on one of the most important jobs? I'm a mess, honestly. I _stole_ your car and left pack territory without permission," Stiles tried. Derek seemed to go rigid next to him.

"Derek's twenty seven." Peter nodded at Derek. "He's performed his duties exceptionally well. And an alpha's mate's most important duty is to love and care for the alpha. Everything else is secondary. You are true mates; it would be unconscionable for us to stand in your way for any reason."

"You will learn as everyone does -- with time. At first we will not expect as much from you and give you time to adjust to your mating, as well as your transition to lycanthropy. You will become part of the council and learn by attending council meetings regularly, as Derek did," another elder said.

"So you want us to mate... right away," Stiles surmised slowly. 

The all looked at him expectantly. Derek sat up straighter next to him and spoke then. 

"Thank you, elders, for your wise words and acceptance. Stiles is still making his adjustment to the pack and to becoming a lycanthrope. With this in mind, we will mate when Stiles feels comfortable, and notify you immediately after," Derek finally said slowly, evenly.  

"You will... delay... answering the mating call, then?" Maria's eyebrows twitched with concern. 

"That will be very difficult for true mates." Deaton frowned. 

"We understand." Derek nodded. "But Stiles has experienced an overwhelming number of changes in his life recently. I want our mating to be a blessing, not another burden to bear." 

"Your concern is noted, Derek." Deaton's voice was soft. "I ask you both to keep in mind that mating is a transcending experience, and one that will settle much of the confusion in Stiles's heart. It will not add to it. We will do our best not to put more on Stiles than he can handle, and give you both the space you need for this next adjustment."

Stiles sunk a little deeper into his seat and Derek squeezed his hand.  

"Thank you." Derek lowered his eyes. The elders looked between themselves in the silence. It was Peter who finally spoke. 

"Alright, nephew." He seemed to smirk at Derek. "You can both try this... _your_ way, on your time. Just remember our words." 

Derek narrowed his eyes at Peter's smirk. The other elders seemed uneasy as they agreed to adjourn. 

* * *

Scott and Erica had essentially identical reactions to seeing him again: when they both got home from their jobs, they sped into Stiles and pushed him against whatever hard surface was nearest, scenting him frantically. 

" _Don't_ you do that again!" Erica demanded, thunking him painfully on the head. "I was scared to death!" 

Stiles nodded somewhat sheepishly and Erica kissed him full on the lips and scented him again in an angry yet needy sort of way. Stiles almost laughed at her, but he had feeling he'd get another thunk to the head if he did. 

"What happened, puppy? Derek missed the pack run too, so we thought it might connected," she asked as Scott set their little table for dinner, nodding his agreement to everything she was saying. 

"Shit." Stiles looked between them. Scott had asked the same thing, but agreed to wait until Erica got back home before Stiles told them his long freak-out story. "I don't even know where to start."

They sat down at the table and ignored their food as Stiles talked, their jaws dropping progressively further toward the ground. 

"True mates," Erica breathed with wonder. "Now that's something I didn't think I'd hear about in real life." 

"Dude. Car chase." Scott high-fived him over the table, focusing on the important things. 

"Yeah... except no one chased me." Stiles still accepted the high-five. "It was kind of anticlimactic, actually." 

"Stiles." Erica frowned, finally taking a bite of her noodle soup. "How was heat?" 

"A lot better once I knew for sure I couldn't get... man pregnant." It was still such a strange concept to him that he didn't know how to talk about it. 

"Pretty sure that's just 'pregnant'." Scott narrowed his eyes at him. Erica nodded.

"Ok. Surprise sex change, dude. I don't know." Stiles glanced down at his stomach nervously. 

"And you're really going to wait to get mated?" Scott asked slowly. 

"You're both doing it." Stiles shrugged. "I honestly don't see what the big deal is." 

"Good for you!" Erica pointed at him energetically. "You show the elders you can do it! Then there'll be no more mating pressure. Hallelujah." 

"He can't do it," Scott scoffed as he took a sip of his soup. Both Stiles and Erica glared at him. 

" _Of course he can,_ " Erica hissed. "And he's going to liberate us all from the terribly archaic werewolf standards for relationships. It's going to be amazing." 

Scott jumped when he saw their faces. He set his soup spoon down and nervously looked between them. 

"Erica, you only see Boyd during your heat, but I see Kira all the time. We're not even true mates and it's really hard to resist that urge. Kira tries to bite me at least once a month. I have to, like, hold her down sometimes."

"Seriously?" Stiles felt a little ecstatic that he wasn't the only one failing at keeping his teeth to himself. Then he finally tried his soup and realized he hadn't eaten in literally a week. He was _starving._

"Well, it's play bites." Scott looked uncomfortable. "But, still, you know. We both feel it. It's super strong." Scott lifted an eyebrow at Erica. "Are you telling me you've never gotten carried away and tried to bite Boyd?"

Erica went redder than Stiles had ever seen her go, and Erica was difficult to embarrass.

"Heat sex is different," Erica sputtered. "And, jesus, Stiles slow down before we have to resuscitate you from drowning by soup."  

"Really not," Scott disagreed, turning back to Stiles, wincing a little at Stiles's frenzied gulping as he downed what would likely by his first of many bowls. "I mean, good luck, buddy. I wish you all the best. I just doubt this is going to work out in the long-run." 

"Long-run, I'm down for mating," Stiles felt the need to point out as he finally took a breath and set his soup bowl down. "I'd just like to know Derek's favorite color first. You know, important things." 

"It's green." Scott blinked at him. "That all?" 

"That was an example," Stiles growled at him, breaking off bread and slathering butter on it. "And see? _You_ knew that and I didn't. I need to get to know him." 

"Yes." Erica clapped for him. " _Yes_."

* * *

 

 

* * *

It was almost another sense; Stiles felt it when Derek came back to the territory. Deaton described it as a side effect of his heightened sensitivity to Derek's smell -- even the smallest trace in the air would register with him. Derek credited the spiritual, citing their soulmate connection. Stiles liked both explanations. One fulfilled his questioning mind and the other his hidden romantic side. Mostly, though, he liked that he knew exactly when to run to the garage to meet Derek when he came back from his long trips off the territory. 

Boyd had warmed up to him considerably when the success of Stiles and Derek's relationship loosened Erica up enough for Boyd to convince her to do something similar with him. He now _smiled_ at Stiles when he and Derek climbed out of the black car and Stiles sped to Derek's side so they could scent each other deeply. Stiles held tight to Derek and took great breaths that seemed to tingle through every nerve in his body. 

"Training. You promised me training," Stiles breathed into Derek's neck as Derek nuzzled along his hairline. They'd been working on Stiles's control -- blending his human and lycanthrope instincts -- with good results. "I've been running at nights. I think I might be able to beat you." 

"Really." Derek smirked, his eyes lit with happiness. "Think you can beat your alpha on foot?" 

"I may not play fair," Stiles grinned back. 

"Boyd." Derek cleared his throat and Stiles watched with delight as a delicate red flush spread along his pale, high cheekbones. "When are we meeting with the elders?" 

"Sunrise tomorrow." Boyd arched an eyebrow. "See you both then?" 

"Yeah," Derek breathed, returning his eyes to Stiles, hungry now. "Probably not before." 

"Figured." Boyd chuckled and left them in the garage. Stiles pressed Derek up against the car as soon as he heard the door click, tasting the mouth he'd missed so much. Derek's hands anchored at his lower back, arching into him as Stiles seriously considered pushing the alpha back into the car and climbing him.

"Wait," Derek broke from their kiss, taking shaky breaths. "I have something to tell you." 

"What?"

"Walk?" Derek suggested, nodding at the door. 

"Treehouse?" Stiles asked. Derek kissed him quickly and slid their hands together in answer. They left the garage and Stiles took deep breaths of the fresh air, even better now that it was spiced with Derek's essential scent. 

They walked together out past the lake, down a barely-there path that looked more like something left by deer than lycanthropes. Derek told him about the case he'd worked on. He preferred to work on cases involving lycanthropes, but the all-human ones were easier on him so Stiles breathed easier when he heard about those. Sometimes Derek would come home crushed with a case and it would take all weekend just to breathe life back into him. This wasn't one of those times, Derek's shoulder loose and relaxed as he held Stiles's hand and spoke easily. 

It wasn't so much a treehouse as a raised floor high up in a sturdy tree, just big enough for maybe five lycanthropes to lie down on and watch the stars at night. Derek liked to come here with him sometimes when they needed their privacy, or just to watch the stars after the pack runs. When Derek showed it to him, he told him about how he'd helped his parents build it when he was young. He brought that singed photo album Stiles saw in his room and they looked through pictures together. Derek's family used to come out together on nights with meteor showers or strange moons. Derek felt closest to them and his sister when he came there and Stiles thought it was probably his favorite place on pack territory. 

Stiles followed Derek there after pack runs now. They swam through the lake to douse Derek's extra strong scent from the run, then climbed in the tree to watch the stars, dry off, and drift to sleep. 

"What kind of training do you want to do this time?" Stiles asked as they climbed the old, massive tree. "The fun kind?" He wiggled his eyebrows. Derek nearly missed the branch he was reaching for. 

"I need to talk to you first," Derek answered, hefting himself onto the sturdy wood platform and pulling seating mats from the dry bags hanging underneath. Stiles helped him roll them out and sat down, trying to qualm the instinct to throw himself at Derek. It sounded important to Derek, so Stiles could use his hard-earned control and sit his ass down and listen.

"You remember... a few months ago... when we fought?" 

"About all the things that piss me off about being a werewolf, yeah."   

"Right," Derek took a controlled breath, the kind he used when he was exercising his special alpha patience techniques. "Well, at first it was hard not to take it as a personal offense that you still have such significant issues with lycanthrope culture." 

"Yeah, I remember." Stiles winced at the memory, Derek's eyes dark as thunderclouds as he left Stiles in his room abruptly in the middle of Stiles's long rant about the "no contact" rule. 

"But... I've been thinking about what you said. I realized that you have some good ideas, even if they are sometimes delivered in an offensive way." 

"Oh," Stiles huffed a laugh. "Well, thanks, I guess. But I also remember you said there was nothing you could do to change the big rules, so what does it matter if I have good ideas?"

"That's still true. The strictest laws we have are decided by an international council of elders, and I have to follow them or risk imprisonment and replacement as alpha." 

"Yeah, that's another thing altogether, dude," Stiles scoffed. "I know, I know, pack safety and all, but still... talk about an oppressive regime." 

"Stiles," Derek sighed. Stiles waited for Derek's irritation to smooth over. "I do want you to have a voice here." Derek looked down at his hands, threading his fingers together. "So I applied for you to be a special delegate for the pack at the International Council next fall." 

Stiles sat up straighter. 

"You have good ideas," Derek said thoughtfully. "And I want you by my side when I represent the pack there." 

"What does that mean?" Stiles asked quickly, his mind racing. "What do I have to do?" 

"It means you can present your case for changes to our pack. It will have to be well-researched. You need to show an understanding of the history of our laws and why they were created in the first place. You'll have to address the original concerns, which mostly means to make the case that pack safety won't be threatened by any changes we ask to try. There's no guarantee they'll be approved, but in my experience you are quite persuasive, so I think we have a chance. And I'm willing to test some of your ideas with the pack if we get approval for experimenting."

"Dude." Stiles grinned at him. "Like cell service? Please say cell service. And wifi. Jesus."

"We can make a draft of changes you'd like to implement together and consult with the elders before we go," Derek said stiffly. Derek was one of the weirdos who said the technology disconnect made him feel 'free' and 'natural'. It was probably the most hippie thing about him that Stiles had yet discovered.

"Wait. You said 'our' pack. Is this like a mate pass or something?" 

"It's usually used for mates, not always." 

"Yeah, it didn't sound like you to break rules." Stiles breathed out in relief. 

"I was thinking something more like..." Derek swallowed, characteristically serious, "...bringing your father and Melissa onto pack territory when they get older."

"What?" Stiles said faintly. "That's possible?" 

"I know it's something you think about a lot, and it's something lycanthropes have been fighting for a long time. Humans are only allowed on territory if there's a human-werewolf marriage and child involved. It can be difficult for humans to adjust to our lifestyle, but not impossible. The issue of elder care is something deeply ingrained in our culture, yet so many human parents grow old in the human world without their lycanthrope children able to care for them properly. I believe it's a fight we can win if we prepare a good case and bring it up at the council." 

"Oh, hell yeah." Stiles felt light, floating with happiness. "I'll study my ass off. I'll write something they can't say no to. I'll bribe Deucalion with whatever I can and get his lawyer expertise on board." 

"I was thinking we could bring him in on this." Derek nodded. "It might help others in the pack. I know Scott has similar worries, and some of the older werewolves may be interested as well. It would help if it was at least an option, even if they chose to stay in the human world." 

"Derek." Stiles felt tears at the edge of his eyes. "Thank you for doing this. And thinking of this." He launched himself at Derek and Derek easily caught him, nuzzling in his hair as Stiles scented him.

"Oh!" Stiles perked up at the thought. "Oh, I have something to tell you too." 

"Yeah?" Derek grinned against his forehead. 

"Deaton says I'm in." 

"What?" Derek sat up quickly, so quickly Stiles fell off him comically. Stiles laughed as he leaned against the hard wood floor. 

"Yeah, I'll start medical school next fall. And it's on a California territory, so it'll be easy for you to visit, I think. Deaton can even train me for some of it, so I won't be off territory for that long." 

"Stiles." Derek was on him again, scenting him deeply before kissing him just as deeply. "I'm so proud of you." 

"I'm almost a respectable mate for you now." Stiles grinned cheekily at him to Derek's eye roll.

"You always were." Derek pressed him down with another kiss. 

"Well... I've been thinking," Stiles struggled to dodge Derek's mouth and gather his quickly scrambling thoughts. He touched the place on Derek's neck where his bite had long healed over. "I might be ready. Before I leave for school? My next heat." 

Derek paused and Stiles looked up at him. His eyes were soft and dark and Stiles knew that look well. 

"Ok, so," Stiles laughed wetly through his tight throat. "Training now? The fun kind," he breathed against Derek's lips, his heart full to bursting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: taking suggestions for an epilogue/time stamps/series :)


	15. PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEEL FREE TO STOP HERE IF YOU ARE HAPPY WITH THAT ENDING. 
> 
> I thought about it for a really long time, and then I made a giant list with all your suggestions. I finally decided I still had a lot of ideas for this world, more than just an epilogue. 
> 
> (then Trump got elected and I had to do something nice for myself to cope)
> 
> So here goes. It's gonna be slower this time around since I'm back in grad school. My plan is to update every other week on Sunday during school, though I might switch to once a week when I'm on break. Hope you haven't forgotten where we left off.

Stiles loved the ocean, but living so far inland on pack territory made it a rare sight. Derek wasn't surprised to learn that Stiles and Cora had hiked down to the beach for the night. 

Cora's pack was distinctly different from his own -- more relaxed, easier to laugh, and with a less sharp sense of humor. Funny how environment could shape the personality of a pack; almost all the werewolves loved to surf, and many of them were fishermen. They breezily pointed Derek in the right direction when he asked. 

As Derek walked the beach, the sun lazily drifting up into the sky and refracting off the waves, he started to hear voices in the distance that warmed his heart: Stiles and Cora arguing, as they tended to do. He was still too far away for them to hear him, unless Cora was paying attention. 

Derek had grown used to the fact that people routinely underestimated the extent of his sense of hearing. Humans much more so than werewolves, but it was still a problem in his own pack. The lack of understanding was always a little exasperating, and often led to a greater insight into people than they gave willingly, for better or for worse. But there was little Derek could do about it; just be existing, he heard things not intended to be heard.

As he continued to walk toward them, he couldn't help but overhear their conversation.  

"Do I need to build a tent around you Stilinski?" Cora groused. "Or are you coming back to bed?" 

"I have to catch a goddamn fish before Derek gets here. He said I couldn't."

"You are a terrible fisherman. You can't catch a fish like that. Or here. Stiles, no, this is wrong too. And, by the way, I've learned the hard way through years of sister experience -- Derek's always right."

Derek smiled at that, and the following silence where he imagined Stiles glaring at Cora. 

"I don't want to leave," Stiles said finally. "It's so beautiful out here." 

"Doesn't smell the best, though. Kinda fishy," Cora sounded kinder than before. "I miss the woods sometimes." 

"They miss you," Stiles replied wistfully. Derek paused, wondering at the sad note to Stiles's tone. "The whole pack." 

"Yeah," Cora's paused. She seemed to catch on too as she asked, "What's wrong, pup?" 

"Not a pup," Stiles said, so softly it was hard to hear. "Not anymore."

"You're my brother," Cora said fondly. Derek heard her footsteps on the sand. "Remember when we first met and you knocked me over with that vase?" 

"Who puts a giant vase in the middle of a pack hall anyway?" Stiles grumbled, sounding a little less glum. 

"You're avoiding," Cora pointed out. Derek felt oddly nervous, his hands shifting briefly to claws and back. He stopped walking as he waited, wondering at Stiles's solemn voice.  

"My heat is coming up," Stiles sighed.  

"... Ok." 

"I'm going off birth control," Stiles announced. 

Derek's body went stiff in surprise. Stiles hadn't told him that yet. He felt a little betrayed that Cora was the first to learn this, before him. Then the full impact of that statement hit him and his hand shifted fully to claws, his mind spinning as he realized that stiles was ready for children. He was finally ready to try.  

"You were on birth control? Why? You know we have the tiniest chances of getting pregnant, right?" 

"True mates, Cora," Stiles explained. "That's the problem. I can't shake this feeling like..." 

"Like what?"

"The more I learn about what we are, the more confused I get. Medical school was supposed to answer my questions, not make more," Stiles confessed. Derek could almost picture him running a frustrated hand through his too-long hair. He frequently forgot to cut his hair lately as Deaton kept him busy with his residency. He had a habit of tugging on it and playing with it when he was restless.  

"I don't think there's anyone who really understands what you are, Stiles," Cora commented. "I don't think it's really possible. And I wouldn't ruminate on it like this. Don't go off birth control if it makes you feel anything but happy, it's that simple." 

"I know." Stiles paused and Derek felt frozen waiting for his answer. "It does, though. And Derek says it took his parents twenty years before they had him, and another five before they had you. But I think all bets are off for us. My body literally grew new tissue so that this could happen -- I feel like that doesn't support the 'this will take a long time' theory everyone keeps trying to feed me. Though, people at least seem pretty certain that we can do it, given the whole true mates thing is supposed to make you super fertile by werewolf standards."

"You're a miracle." Cora seemed a little exasperated. "Stop worrying so much about how miraculous you are and try to enjoy the perks."

"Oh, I see. It's that easy! Why didn't I think of that before? Just... don't worry!" Stiles groused. 

"Come here." Derek heard Stiles shift on the sand and pictured Stiles scenting Cora. It brought a smile to his face at the thought of his two closest family members bonding like that. "It's going to be ok, whatever you're worrying about." 

"Thanks." Stiles sighed. "You can't know that, but thank you." 

"So." Derek finally uprooted himself from the sand and started walking again, quicker than before as he thought about scenting Stiles too and telling him how happy he was. "You want to tell me why, on your precious free time, you drove all the way out to the Bay Area to see me?" 

"Actually, the pack has two doctors right now, so my free time isn't all that coveted," Stiles pointed out. Derek thought that was a bit of a stretch. Deaton kept Stiles on-call 24/7 while he was technically working on his residency, but he had granted him a holiday to come visit Cora. "And... I wanted to ask you about why you're here." 

"Why I'm here?" 

"Why you left the pack to become the alpha here," Stiles clarified slowly. 

Derek almost stopped again at the question, that foreboding feeling returning to his chest. He knew his mate well enough to know that questions like that always seemed to hide bigger, complicated ideas that Stiles's too-smart brain continually worked through. Derek often wondered if he ever took a break from questioning everything. 

"I became the alpha because they needed one," Cora answered like it was obvious. It was the kind of answer Derek would give. "And because I was born to do this. It's in my blood, Stiles. The same way it's in yours to be an alpha's mate." 

"That's it?" Stiles asked skeptically. "That's the whole reason? There's nothing else to it?" 

"Why?" Cora asked him. "What are you thinking?" 

Derek wanted to know the same thing. 

"I've been thinking about the future..." Stiles sighed again. "And all the things I still can't control."

Derek heard Cora move on the sand again and he sped his pace up a little, wanting to comfort Stiles too.

He reached them a few minutes later, his heart lurching in his chest when Stiles stood up to greet him. He forgot how beautiful his mate was sometimes after they'd been apart for days. Then, when he saw him again, all those little details Derek loved seemed to stand out in sharp relief: his long neck and broad shoulders, the slight curve of his mouth, his doe-like eyes. 

Derek sped across the sand to pick him up in a crushing hug, the warm weight of Stiles's body in his arms soothing him to his core.

"Hey," Stiles whispered, his arms coming around Derek's shoulders as he squeezed him back. "Missed you too." Derek closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Stiles's scent immediately drained any stress and tension he'd brought back from his body. 

"I want one of those." Cora waved at him as Derek opened his eyes. He set Stiles back down and scented his sister as she scented him, both their scents mingling pleasantly in the air between them. Sometimes it was hard to be in the presence of another alpha, but Cora was family so her scent complimented rather than antagonized Derek's own strong scent. 

Derek's immediate thought was to confess what he'd heard and reassure Stiles that he felt incredibly happy about his decision, that he was ready for this too. It wasn't new information -- they'd had long talks about this many times -- but Derek wanted his mate to heart it again, to wipe away any uncertainties. But then he really took in Stiles's expression and realized this was far more complicated -- Stiles didn't just look uncertain, but stressed. Sad, even. Derek didn't know how to interpret it.  

Cora shrugged at him somewhat covertly to show she'd noticed his mate's mood too. Her words were teasing when she spoke, though. 

"I'm glad you're here. He was trying to fish again. It was a disaster. How you completed medical school but can't figure out a stick with a string attached to it is beyond me." 

Derek looked to his mate for the usual snappy comeback. Stiles was staring very hard at the ocean with resolve, not seeming to hear her.

"I want to see Eliseo," he announced abruptly.

Cora blinked at him and exchanged a look with Derek. Eliseo was the oldest werewolf still left in California, nearing 167 if Derek remembered right. He was also a member of Cora's pack and a member of her elder council. 

"We can see him before you two drive back to your pack," Cora answered slowly. "He does tend to sleep for parts of the day, though, so we might miss him."

"Then we'll stay and wait." Stiles shook his head. "I need to see him with Derek." 

Derek stared at his mate, trying to decipher the mix of emotions in Stiles's expression. Tonight was the pack run, something Derek didn't miss unless it was an emergency of some kind. Stiles knew that all too well.  

"Ok." Derek wasn't about to question Stiles like this. Stiles usually had his reasons, and they were usually good ones. Derek could trust that. "Do you have a room for us, Cora?" 

"What, you two don't want to pack pile after being apart for four days? Weird," Cora commented sarcastically. Derek saw Stiles's cheeks tinge pink. "Yeah, there's some empty cabins. Stiles just wanted to camp next to the ocean to listen to the waves last night, that's why we're out here." 

They all packed the tent up together and Cora cooked them breakfast around the fire before they headed back to the pack cabins slightly inland and north of their camping spot. Stiles was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked, leaving it up to Cora to fill the silence that Derek was happy to leave. Cora questioned him relentlessly about the pack back home. Derek wondered what Cora and Stiles had talked about on his trip there if Cora was still asking these kinds of basic questions about her former pack.

 

* * *

 

Elisio was, as luck would have it, awake. They found him sitting out in the garden in the front of his cabin, his white hair drifting lazily with the breeze as he watched them approach with dark eyes. He wore plain, smoke colored clothes with embroidery that reminded Derek of Deaton's robes. 

"Elder Elisio." Cora bowed her head in respect. "My brother Stiles has asked for your council." 

"I heard you were here." Elisio's voice was a little scratchy, but still strong. Derek could remember meeting the werewolf as a child and thinking the same thing about him. How little he had changed in such a long period of time -- but thirty years was nothing to him, compared to the duration of his long life. "Come inside, pup." 

"Not a pup," Stiles mumbled. It was a pet peeve of his that everyone in their own pack had quickly learned (and Erica exploited from time to time). Derek swallowed back his knee-jerk reaction of exasperation, hoping that Elisio wouldn't take offense to his unfiltered mate. He didn't know the elder all that well, and he hadn't spoken with Cora about him extensively, but the older sometimes the stricter in his experience. 

Luckily, he saw the corners of Elisio's mouth turn up as he turned and entered his cabin. Derek let an unintentionally held breath go.  

The cabin was dated -- artifacts of obvious age adorning the walls and the shelves. Even his furniture looked much older than the furniture in Cora's home. Two couches framed the meeting of walls, long and thick, their cushions plush and comfortable when Derek sat where Elisio directed him. 

Elisio settled in at an over large, woven wood chair slightly off from the couches and looked at them expectantly. 

Derek kept his body in a respectful position -- his hands clasped in his lap, his head slightly bowed. He waited for his mate to speak, not knowing what Stiles would say, or why he wanted Derek here with him when he said it. Cora's presence next to him was a warm comfort in his uncertainty. 

"Thank you for speaking with me," Stiles's voice sounded smooth and low. "I am in great need of your wisdom, Elder." Derek was secretly proud of his mate for learning to respectfully approach elders. He could still remember the way Stiles used to ask questions when he first started sitting in on council meetings -- brash and unfiltered. He'd learned quickly to talk more formally with the elders, but sometimes that brashness still came out when he disagreed strongly with their decisions. 

"I will give it," Elisio replied patiently. "Speak your mind." 

"I've been reading books about old ways of the lycanthropes. I've been studying and searching for more of an explanation of my relationship with Derek." 

"You are true mates. That is your explanation." Elisio tilted his head, his dark eyes sparkling. "And I think our ideas of 'old' will differ, pup." 

"These books go back hundreds of years," Stiles pressed. "Lycanthrope scholars from the middle ages, the dark ages. In different parts of the world."

Elisio nodded. 

"I have found almost as many questions as answers," Stiles confessed. "I believe, however... there is a ritual. One that I hope you know. It may help me to gain understanding." 

Derek couldn't help but stare at his mate. Stiles wasn't one to put his faith in anything other than science. He was the first to rationalize and cast doubt if Derek told myths and stories based on superstition or hearsay, not one to go digging through old books for rituals without a base in evidence.

"It is a ritual for mates, one of the old fertility rituals." 

"My alpha has told me you are a doctor," Elisio replied after a moment. Stiles hesitated before nodding. "Then you know doctors have since shown these rituals did not produce the desired effect." 

"Not for fertility," Stiles agreed. "But for understanding, maybe." 

"True mates." The elder looked at Derek now, amused. "What deeper understanding could you seek?"

"Please, elder," Stiles pleaded. "In some cultures it is called the ritual of the two scents." 

Elisio nodded and sat back more comfortably in his chair, crossing his hands over his lap. 

"I know it. It was quite common in my early years. Scent has always been a sacred part of our lives." Elisio frowned. "It can be done during heat." 

"Not now?" Stiles asked. "You have to wait?" 

"I can do nothing." Elisio shook his head. "I can only teach you and your alpha mate, but you must be the ones to perform it." 

Cora stepped outside at Elisio's request. Then the elder directed Derek and Stiles into a position on the ground, Stiles sitting over Derek's thighs, his arms wound tight around Derek's neck. 

"The first aspect of the ritual is the space. You must stay in a small, enclosed space. If you do not, the ritual will not work. This was often done in the sea caves here before pack doctors stopped recommending it for fertility. It has not been done here in fifty years or more," Elisio started. The elder wandered around them, looking at their positioning with critiquing eyes. "You must be close, your two bodies as one as they can be." 

Stiles pressed tighter to Derek, his nose going to Derek's neck on instinct. Derek relaxed into the familiar position, even with the elder watching them. 

"Your scents will change and mingle in the air. Over time, the concentrated scent will open pictures in your mind. Some have said it gave them great insight into their families, and into their children, if they were able to have them."

Derek buried his nose into Stiles's neck too, his heart leaping at the idea. 

"You must be patient. It will take many hours, perhaps as long as a day. Stay close. Do not leave the enclosed space. You must give your scents time to become one scent and open your mind." 

"I read," Stiles's breath ghosted over Derek's neck, "that the mating bite could be reproduced." 

Derek shivered. That moment in his life stood out, a rush of emotions unlike any other he'd experienced. If that was true...

"You may travel back to that moment," Elisio agreed. "It can bring back your happiest moments, or your saddest." Elisio sat back down in his wicker chair, his hands folded. "It will leave you stronger, closer. It will also have a price."

"Yes," Stiles nodded, his breath hot on Derek's skin. "Shortened heat." 

"Much shortened," Elisio replied. "We used to believe it was more potent, if short." Elisio seemed to pause for a moment. "You may untangle, young mates. I have no more council for you."

Derek leaned back, feeling reluctant. He hadn't held Stiles like this in days. Stiles stood easily from his lap and thanked the elder. Derek scent marked the elder's outstretched wrist in his own thanks and then slid his hand into Stiles without thinking, aching for the touch of his mate after so long without it.  

Cora was waiting for them out in the elder's garden, sitting next to a pot of flowers and watching a bee hum from flower to flower. 

They walked towards Derek's car as Cora questioned Stiles about his need for council. She was similarly surprised when Stiles revealed his reasoning, as she too had often heard of Stiles's sharp critiques of anything founded on tradition and not heavily supplemented with evidence.

Cora scented Derek for a long time before they got in their cars. Derek was relieved they ended up leaving in time to make the pack run that night. He prioritized caring for his pack, and he had always been taught that pack runs kept the pack healthy, kept the bond between an alpha and his betas strong. 

"What are you searching for, Stiles?" Cora asked Stiles as she leaned back from scenting him. 

Derek's mate looked at her for a moment before waving and opening the passenger door to the car. 

 

* * *

  

Once they got out on the highway, with a long stretch of road in front of them, Derek finally confessed. 

"I heard you and Cora talking on the beach," he said haltingly. Stiles was sometimes warmer or cooler to Derek's accidental eavesdropping, depending on the day. Warmer more often recently, as he seemed to realize it came along with being mated to an alpha with alpha senses.

"You heard -- oh. Oh." Stiles seemed to freeze next to him. 

"I'm happy," Derek reassured him softly. "You know that, right?" 

"I'm." Stiles stopped. "I'm happy too." 

"You are?" Derek asked, glancing at his mate. "You sure?" 

"I want kids." Stiles paused. "I'm still working through what that reality will look like, though." 

"Are you worrying about pregnancy again?" Stiles had struggled at first the most with the idea of pregnancy, and what that would mean in his male body. It was a big adjustment in his thinking.  

"No, if there's one thing med school helped with, it's that." Stiles's mouth ticked up. "I mean, at first it was hard to believe there were so many ways a fetus could kill me. Pregnancy is really a deadly disease, you know. All the bizarre shit that happens to your body! Ok, well, you've heard it before." 

Derek snorted. He had heard this lecture a lot in the first year or so at medical school. It was almost nostalgic to get a piece of it again. 

"So what is it?" 

"What is what?" 

"Your big, existential, Stiles question." Derek smiled, his eyes on the road still. "The one that keeps you up at night. The one that drove you up here."

Stiles bit his lip, staring out at the front window with him.

"What if you leave?" 

Derek almost drove off the road. Stiles gripped the door at the swerve of the car. 

"What?" Derek choked out. "How could you even _think_  --" 

"Cora." Stiles looked at him. "Pack is supposed to be family. It's become my family. And she left, right after your parents died. She left you. She left her pack." 

"It's  _my_ pack." Derek shook his head. "I'll never leave this pack. And I'll certainly never leave you. Cora was different. She inherited the alpha gene, but I'd already inherited the pack. When another alpha passed away with no heir, she went. The timing was... not ideal, for either of us. It was just necessary." 

"What about our children?" Stiles wondered fearfully. "What if we have more than one? Are they going to leave us, too, when they get old enough?" 

"That happens all the time in the human world," Derek pointed out, though his heart ached too at the thought. "It's a part of life." 

"Not mine." Stiles shook his head. "I fought so hard to get my dad on territory for that exact reason, Derek. And you know that. I want my kids to be able to stay with me, and with the pack they grew up with. Family... family is the most important thing to me." 

"It will be their choice." Derek tapped his hand against the wheel as he considered that truth. Stiles was loyal almost to a fault. "It's not our choice to make for them. You left the human world behind to come into mine. Most werewolves have to go through that kind of transition. It's just part of our life cycle. Alphas are no different."

"Not yours." Stiles frowned. "You've never left the pack."

"My big transition in life was the death of my parents." Derek realized he was squeezing the wheel too hard so he coaxed his body into relaxing. "Most alphas transition to leadership after the death of their parents, but..." 

"Not like that." Stiles's hand came to rest on his thigh, his thumb stroking his pants. "And not so young. I know." 

"Yeah." Derek took a breath and held it, focusing on Stiles's familiar scent in the car. He willed his mind not to return to that part of his life, to relive unnecessary memories of pain and sorrow, of ash and smoke.  _Stay in the moment._

"You'll do the ritual with me?" 

Derek was glad for the change in subject, shifting his mind to this surprising turn of events. Stiles trying, no, _insisting_ on performing an old ritual whose effects had been disproven by other doctors. Beyond strange. 

"Are you doing this to try to see if I'll leave you?" The horrible thought hit him in the chest. 

"No." Stiles shook his head, definitive. It loosened Derek's anxiety quite a bit to see his mate put that fear to rest so surely. "I've read that couples learned different things from the ritual, so I'm not sure what we'll find. But I doubt it lets you predict the future." 

"We could relive the mating bite." Derek shuddered with want as he said it. That alone was enough to convince him. Stiles smiled and turned away. 

"I thought that might interest you." 

Derek smiled too. 

"You're such a big sap," Stiles mumbled into his hand as he leaned against it, looking out the window. Derek could tell he was still smiling from his tone, though, and it was a relief from his somber mood so far. 

 


	16. The Pull

By the time they made it back to pack territory, Stiles's mood had improved considerably. Derek listened quietly as he finished what Derek was pretty sure was his third consecutive rant on one of his many pet topics, the lack of human food on pack territory. It was sometimes hard to tell where one rant began and another started, especially if they were related, but Derek was pretty sure the rant on candy bars was separate from the one about potato chips and, finally, cereal. 

"It's just, I think Tony the Tiger could seriously motivate the pack, Derek. Why can't we be just as inundated by happy, manipulative marketing as the rest of the U.S.? We're too skinny, I'm telling you. Too healthy. We've got to even that shit out." 

"Just to be clear: your closing argument is that we're... too healthy." 

"I'm shocked and appalled, frankly, that we aren't drinking more mindless amounts of soda." 

"Stiles. You're the pack doctor. And you know there's no way I'm approving this, so don't even think about it."

"Did you know the last time I was on visitation I realized I didn't know the new Twix slogan? It's been around for two years at least. I googled it." Stiles seemed to ignore his shut down.

Derek pursed his lips together and tried to look more irritated. He knew if he let himself smile it would only goad Stiles on further. Luckily, they were almost to the garages, so even if Stiles saw through him (which he usually did) he wouldn't torture him for long. 

"Yeah," Stiles said the words heavily, as though they were talking about war crimes rather than advertising. "'Try both, and pick a side'. Ok? I'm horrified. This is what happens, Derek. They weave biphobic bullshit into _our candy bar slogans_  if I'm not around to stop it. I have to stay woke, ok?" 

"I don't think it was supposed to be bi--"

" _Horrified,_ " Stiles interrupted him dramatically, waving his hands. Derek did crack a smile then, just as he pulled into the garage. He checked the time on the dash -- 3:30 -- and let a breath go. They had plenty of time to settle in and relax before the pack run.

Stiles took off almost as soon as they arrived, running to Scott's house, probably. Derek watched his mate go for a moment before walking down the path to his uncle's cabin. 

Peter was in his cabin, alone, looking through something on his ipad. He was among the few elders pleased by Stiles's wifi push Years ago, and one of the main reasons it passed through their approval. 

"Nephew." Peter didn't look up at him as he swiped his finger over the device. "Good to see you."   
  
Derek raided Peter's fridge first, then sat down at the kitchen table with a bag of carrots and waited for his uncle to acknowledge him. At least a minute passed before Peter set his ipad down and gave Derek his attention. 

"And how was your week?" Peter asked, his lips curling into something like a smile.

"Strange," Derek admitted, thinking mostly of the last few hours with his mate. "Report?" 

"Same old." Peter shrugged. Usually Peter was concise, but not negligent of any events that happened on territory while Derek was away. "The biggest matter at hand is the International Council approaching quickly. Stiles still needs to finalize his policy recommendations with me and Deucalion before he presents them before the elder council." 

"Right." Derek sighed. Stiles and his policy recommendations. Derek vividly remembered the dynamite mess that had resulted from bringing his mate to the International Council five years ago. He was proud of Stiles for advocating for things he believed in, and he supported him in that, but it didn't mean the process of pushing back against old werewolf traditions, and often powerful elders, was anything but messy, confrontational, and uncomfortable. Derek didn't think this year would be any different, and he was still trying to mentally prepare himself. 

"First we deal with regionals," Derek pointed out. 

"Regionals are no big whoop," Peter waved his hand, nonchalant. "Volleyball games and barbecues. Nothing like the International Council." 

"Maybe not this year," Derek sighed. "We've made some people very angry." 

"Finstock?" Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes. "His opinion's not as important as he thinks it is." 

"He's loud." Derek stared distastefully at a carrot in his hand. "And pushy. He could agitate others and turn it into a brawl. " 

"So's your mate," Peter prodded. Derek shot him a glare. Peter smirked in return. "I'm just saying -- Stiles can handle it." 

"It's not a matter of 'handling'. It's a matter of harmony. I don't want us to be the root of fighting at an event intended to promote peace between our neighbor packs."

Peter nodded, his expression settling into something more contemplative. 

"You could try distance," Peter suggested. "Keep Stiles away from the known traditionalists. Direct his focus to the relay races and the pumpkin pies, away from the politics."

"Only if he'll agree to it." Derek sighed. Convincing Stiles to back off of his renegades, even for a few days, was not an easy task.  

"He will if you explain that it's important to you. And like you said, it's not the International Council. If the politics aren't formal, Stiles doesn't care."

"Maybe," Derek admitted. Peter was... Peter, but sometimes he had good ideas.

They talked more then about the little scuffles and administrative details in the week, mainly composed of scheduling, finances, and conflicts within the pack. Then Peter stood, stretching and yawning loudly, and nodded at the door.

Derek could already smell the roasted yams and mashed potatoes, though it was faint at this distance. He heard his pack starting to congregate for Friday dinner while he and Peter spoke. Their voices soothed him even as his head felt cluttered with all the things Peter made him aware of that still required his attention.

He followed his uncle silently through the door and out into the pack territory. It felt so familiar he didn't even have to think about where he was going; his feet just carried him while his mind sorted through their briefing. 

Most of the pack was already at the tables when Derek arrived with Peter. Stiles was sitting next to Derek's chair, chatting amiably with Deaton. Derek scented him as he sat down, leaning over the arms of his chair to touch his nose to his mate's neck. He lingered there long enough for his crisp scent to clear his head. 

Stiles's hand drifted down to squeeze Derek's thigh in greeting as he waited for Derek to pull back, still listening to Deaton say something with too many medical terms for Derek to fully understand. Derek squeezed Stiles's hand on his thigh in return as he pulled back, feeling much better, and surveyed how many people were gathered. He usually started dinner when a firm majority of the pack was there, and let the stragglers trickle in after. People were pretty prompt with Friday dinner, though, as they didn't want to end up behind when the pack run started. 

Once Derek started eating, setting off the chain reaction of feasting in the pack, Stiles leaned over and rested his chin on Derek's shoulder. 

"We should tell the council." 

"Hmm?" Derek glanced at Stiles, his mouth full with mashed potatoes. They were surrounded on either side by council members with very good hearing.

"What we talked about in the car," Stiles clarified, wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully as he sat back in his chair. 

"We should," Derek agreed, glancing to his right where Peter was now eyeing him with curiosity. "At the next council meeting." Their decision to start trying to have children was the kind of announcement that required formality so that the council could advise them properly. It was not the kind of announcement to drop over dinner. Stiles had thankfully learned the difference between the two when he spoke about his policy suggestions within the ears of the council at dinnertime a few years ago and delayed the pack run by two hours. Nobody had been happy about that, including Stiles.   

"Right." Stiles nodded. Derek wanted to say more, ask more; they left the subject of children on an uncertain note, but if Stiles was recommending they tell the council, well... that couldn't be more certain. Derek's heart warmed at the realization. 

"And the other thing," Stiles waggled his eyebrows again. Derek decided he was terrible at talking in code. "I talked to Ethan and Aiden about building us a... space." 

"Will it be ready in time?" Derek asked as he focused back in on his food. 

"Yes. Turns out a box with holes in it is easy to make."

Derek counted down to his mate's heat schedule, as he both looked forward to it every year and needed to time his work appropriately. They had less than two weeks at this point, assuming Stiles didn't come early or late, which he sometimes did. 

"That sounds..." Derek shifted in his seat at the thought.

Peter was definitely staring at them now. 

"Uncomfortable, I know," Stiles rushed, ignoring their nosy uncle. "But they're making it a little oversized. And with lighting, so we aren't in the dark the whole time."

"How long is 'the whole time'?" Derek wondered, starting to picture the details of this ritual and surface doubts about the feasibility. 

"Depends. We'll probably only be a few hours, given how sensitive we are."

Peter finally gave up and turned back to his other neighbor. 

"And that's it?" Derek asked, disappointed. Stiles's heats were a highlight of his year. Well, usually _the_ highlight of the year. He hoped the shortened time would be worth the payoff. 

"Don't worry, Sourwolf. I don't think you'll regret it." Stiles winked at him playfully and Derek couldn't help relaxing somewhat. "Remember?" 

The mating bite. Right. 

"Fine," Derek relented, his insides tingling again at just the prospect. "I hope you're right." Heats were precious to them, and especially now given Stiles's new decision to go without birth control. Derek tried not to let his hopes get too high -- most werewolf mates didn't ever conceive, and those who did usually took years to do so. But still, now there was the possibility, as remote as it was, that they could be parents soon after one of Stiles's heats. He wanted to take full advantage of them... in their full length.  

When Derek finished his dinner, he felt more than a little overwhelmed with all he had to consider and more than ready to run until his head cleared again. He emptied his plate quickly and started toward the woods, pushing himself to walk slowly rather than hurry the way he wanted to. He had to give his pack time to follow him -- this was, after all, about them and strengthening his connection with them through sharing his scent. 

Running did something amazing to him. His whole body surged with power, his senses even further heightened when he ran, and his body not only pumped out scent hormones at an elevated rate but also processed them in that way too. He could feel each of his pack mates intimately by their scent on the air, sometimes catching hints of emotions that gave him insight into their mental state. 

Tonight, Stiles's scent stood out among the rest. It was distinct and more intense than usual. Despite how his mood had brightened over the course of the day, Derek could still catch hints of confusion and worry in his mate's intoxicating scent. It sparked the same feelings in him as he barreled through the night with his pack at his feet. 

As the dark grew deeper and the stars lit up, the animals around him calling out in excited voices, Derek felt his pack drop off.

All but one. 

Stiles followed in his footsteps as Derek wound his way down to the lake. His body was hot and sweaty, his scent glands pulsing and inflamed with overuse, and he needed the cool water to bring him back to his senses. 

When he finished stripping off his clothes and plunged into the lake, he heard Stiles crash through the trees behind him, closer than he would normally be at this point. Stiles usually didn't catch up to him until the treehouse.

The water rushed around him, a roaring silence, as he sped through it like a dart. He surfaced once for air, then dove and pushed off the bottom for the greatest speed to finish the length of the lake.

Then Stiles's hands were on his ankles, tugging him back. 

Derek surfaced immediately as Stiles all but tackled him in the water. They were nearly at the other side of the lake, close enough to easily touch the bottom with their feet, and Derek couldn't understand why his mate jerked him back before they'd reached it. Derek twisted in confusion as Stiles's body, Stiles's _fully clothed body_ , crashed into him, knocking him back into the water before he could regain his balance and footing on the bottom of the lake. 

"Stiles," Derek sputtered, spitting up water. His mate clung to him like a vice, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and Derek's alarm bells immediately went off. "What's wrong?" 

Stiles grunted, sounding more annoyed than pained. "The pull. It's starting." 

Derek immediately relaxed, lifting Stiles up from his twisted sprawl in the water and gently setting him on his feet. Stiles kept his arms around Derek's shoulders, his nose shoved into Derek's neck. Derek waited for his body to relax too as the waves lapped against them. 

"Fuck. It just hit me when your scent got strong during the run. And then you were running _away_ from me and my instincts... I can't control it," Stiles mumbled. Derek cradled his head to his neck, and Stiles slowly melted into him until he was resting his cheek on Derek's shoulder, his breath soft and cool on Derek's wet skin.

The pull, the magnetism between pairs with infatuation, usually started out strong in the beginning of a relationship and faded with time, returning right before heat to draw the couple closer again. Stiles seemed to experience the pull as much stronger than how other couples with infatuation, like Scott and Kira, did. While it had thankfully faded to something bearable for them in everyday life, it always seemed to return with a vengeance about a week before his heat. 

"You're early this year, then." Derek nuzzled his mate back. Stiles's scent was stronger to him too, something he'd noticed fleetingly while running. He was expecting Stiles's heat in two weeks, but this meant it would likely only be one. The effects could sometimes be inconvenient, like how Stiles was probably feeling right now, but Derek found the pull helpful in scheduling his hectic life to make sure he was free for Stiles's heat. 

"Guess so," Stiles was fully limp now, his arms resting comfortably against Derek's shoulders. "I think I'm good. Jesus."

"Your clothes are all wet," Derek noted as Stiles stepped back tentatively and grimaced down at his fully clothed and sopping wet body. 

"Lovely." His nose stayed wrinkled as he stripped off his shirt and pants with some difficulty and slogged the rest of the way to land. Derek followed, feeling both bad for his mate a little amused at how his instincts had betrayed him. "Curse all the ancient werewolves and their stupid ancient werewolf genes that decided this infatuation thing was a good idea."  

* * *

The next few days were sheer bliss for Derek, with his octopus for a mate by his side.

Often, Stiles got caught up in research or work, so even when Derek was on territory quality time spent with his mate was in short supply between their two schedules. But the pull of infatuation in Stiles made Derek the center of his world for a few days, and Derek, though he sometimes felt guilty about taking pleasure in a compulsion his mate found annoying, reveled in it. They laid in bed for hours most mornings, just cuddling and scenting each other. Stiles placed other things on hold just to eat with Derek, or walk the territory with him and talk to their pack mates about varying concerns. It reminded him of the beginning, when Stiles would chase Derek around the territory just to get Derek to scent mark him one more time. 

Derek hated going back to work. 

Stiles sat koala-style in his lap on the couch until Derek was at least ten minutes late to meeting Boyd. Stiles was nuzzling his neck and snuffling in a way that sounded suspiciously like barely concealed crying. It left Derek swallowing with guilt and rubbing his hand over Stiles's back. 

"I shortened my schedule. Only two days this week, then I'll be right back here with you." 

"I know." Stiles tried to sound tough, like it wouldn't physically hurt him to let Derek go. Derek cursed at himself silently.

"I'll leave my sweater for you, ok?" Derek pulled the piece of clothing up over his head and handed it to Stiles. Stiles's eyes were unmistakably glassy, if defiant and proud. His fierce, sassy mate reduced to tears over just the thought of him leaving. Sometimes he couldn't believe the power infatuation had over Stiles. He hated this part of it the most. "It'll help." 

Stiles stared blankly down at it until Derek took the initiative and pulled the clothing over his shoulders.

"Thanks." Stiles bit his lower lip, his eyes darting between Derek's. A tear slipped onto his cheek and Stiles rubbed at it hurriedly, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "Ok. Go before I really embarrass myself," Stiles breathed out in a rush.  

"It's not embarrassing," Derek insisted, rubbing the backs of his hands. "It's sweet." 

"It's insane," Stiles groused. "I deal with this every week. And you'll be right back, like you said. God."

"Exactly," Derek smiled encouragingly. "I'll be right back, ok?" 

Stiles blew a steadying breath out, closing his eyes and sliding stiffly off of Derek's lap to let him go. Derek stood, even though he wanted more than anything to sit right back down and curl up with Stiles again. He forced himself to grab his wallet and another jacket, to put on his human shoes. Stiles watched him silently with his knees drawn up to his chin. 

"Bye," Derek said softly as he closed the door to the terrible sight of Stiles's face crumbling. He took a moment just to stand there and gather his strength to walk away. If he went back in and comforted Stiles, it would only be harder the second time, he told himself. 

Boyd was waiting for him, prompt as usual, with the car idling outside the garage already. Derek slid into the passenger seat without a word. He appreciated Boyd the most at times like this; Boyd would never force him into talking. Sure enough, the werewolf turned the radio to a channel they often listened to and drove without any attempt to start conversation. 

They drove for what felt like forever. Southern California was closer than the jobs they sometimes got up in Northern California, but still a few hours away. Every hour away from Stiles left him aching, though. 

A new werewolf, freshly fourteen, had disappeared from a youth homeless shelter only a few nights before. It was the latest in a series of homeless werewolf victims, and finally the FBI had been called in to investigate. Derek already knew who was behind it -- serial werewolf murders were always due to the same group in this part of California -- but the girl's body hadn't been found yet, and they had to get evidence for the human courts. 

Eventually he roused himself from moping over leaving Stiles like that and steeled himself to look over the case file that had arrived the night before, alerting Boyd to what he thought were pertinent details as the quiet werewolf drove. 

"Red hoodie found in an alley near the shelter. Witnesses say she was wearing it right before she disappeared," Derek reported, his voice soft with thought. 

"Mm." 

"No blood." Derek glanced at him. "That the humans can detect, anyway. We'll need to inspect it when we arrive." 

Boyd grunted again. 

Soon the traffic thickened and the air turned opaque with smog. Derek hated Los Angeles. It was noisy and hot and pretentious and dirty -- the complete opposite of their pack territory. But he and Boyd tended to stick out less in LA, with the sunglasses and muscles, which was admittedly a plus. Sometimes when they worked in small towns closer to home, the residents knew immediately that they were not human and they had to watch their backs carefully. 

The homeless shelter was closer to downtown than Derek preferred. Parking was a nightmare. The noise was unbearable for his alpha senses, the constant mechanical whirring of cars stopping and going and honking unnecessarily at one another, the near shouting of pedestrians. Sewage smell, that was another fun part of the city for his magnified senses. 

Derek entered the shelter with a significantly dampened mood, ignoring the few heads that turned when he and Boyd walked down the hall. They picked out the administrator's office with relative ease. She was expecting them, luckily, though traffic had held them up longer than they'd planned. 

The shelter coordinator was a younger blond woman, shorter and chubby in a way that might have been cute if it weren't for the steel in her eyes that immediately communicated to Derek that she would not tolerate bullshit. 

"FBI, I guess." She looked them up and down, somewhat unimpressed. Boyd nodded. "Good. This is the second little one that's gone missing in the last three months, and the others are scared shitless. Should have sent you guys in the first time. Cops around here are worthless." 

Derek had worked with LAPD frequently enough to confirm her resentment. This time he nodded. She ushered them into her office and closed the blinds, gesturing at the dilapidated chairs in front of the cheap desk piled high with paperwork.

"My kids disappear from time to time," she started immediately. "Street kids have a way of up and leaving and then turning up a few days or a few months later without so much as a hello. But she left all her stuff, and she wasn't the kind of kid to just abandon her shit. She was new to the streets, that was obvious, and she cared a lot about the few things she'd brought with her. And she told her friend that she was just going out to buy a soda from the corner store down the street. Then we found that sweatshirt when we were taking out the trash. Someone got her." 

"She'd just presented." Derek made himself speak, pushing away the terrible muddle of the city to try to concentrate on this child.

"Right. I'd literally just called her in when she went missing. Pretty sure that's how she ended up here. Took her a few nights to admit it, but I know the signs well enough at this point. I can spot a werewolf kid within the first hour," she said, bland, without inflection. No obvious bias, but Derek knew better than to trust adults in the immediate vicinity of missing werewolf children. A youth homeless shelter would be a perfect cover for an Argent agent. 

"If we find her, we'll be able to keep her safe," he took off his sunglasses and flashed his red eyes at her, testing her reaction. She didn't even flinch. 

"Good," her eyebrows shot up. "I hope to god she's still alive. I know better than most what can happen to those kids if you all don't make it in time. Even staying here is a risk. The other kids... most of them are pretty good, but even normal ones can get vicious around werewolves. Scares them, and they're already scared enough."

Derek forced his face not to react. He wasn't of the opinion that "good" or "normal" kids bullied or attacked other kids for simply existing as werewolves. But this was a sentiment he rarely shared on the job -- it just wasn't worth arguing with humans over what prejudices were justified in which situations.

"The police interviewed her friend," Boyd noted, looking down at the case file. "Can we speak with her too?"

"Sure. Malia." The woman nodded at them. "Another one of you. She's still waiting on her new pack to pick her up. Just got here yesterday. She was the reason Laura decided to open up about what she was. But, I have to tell you, the police already interviewed her. And she only knew Laura for a day, so she won't be able to say much." 

Derek glanced at Boyd, who's expression flashed with alarm too. 

"You have another werewolf here?" 

She sighed.

"You lot are too slow sometimes. I've been waiting on them since this morning." 

Derek frowned, trying to think of which pack would be picking her up. LA had at least two large packs that drew from the population of the city. "Do you remember which pack claimed her?"

"I think it was... the Paradise Springs pack." The woman frowned.

Boyd exchanged a look with Derek.

"We'll be in contact with them. We'll also be taking her into protective custody immediately."

Her eyes sharpened in on them.

"You call them in here. I want to talk with them to make sure you're exactly who you say you are." 

"Yes." Derek nodded, a little pleased with her protective posturing. It was always nice to see a first line of defense worker care about werewolf children.  

As Derek suspected, the Paradise Springs pack wasn't aware another werewolf child had been abducted so near their new pack member, so Derek got their verbal permission, with reassurances to the shelter coordinator, to keep Malia with them until they could send someone. They were a larger pack, somewhere around 200. Derek got the feeling from their short conversation that they got a lot of calls for werewolf children that ended up empty.

"Can we see the sweatshirt? We were told it was being kept here for us." It was reckless to leave evidence at the scene of the crime, but Derek had come to expect carelessness from the police when investigating crimes against lycanthropes. 

"Sure. The police didn't find anything on it, so they left it behind for you all." She rummaged in her desk and pulled out a plastic evidence bag with the sweatshirt inside. She handed it over to them before they left her office. 

She took them outside and down the block to the alley by the convenience store Laura had supposedly been heading for when she disappeared. The shelter shared a dumpster with the other stores on the block.

She left them standing there at Boyd's request. They wandered into the empty alley and Derek pulled the sweatshirt from the evidence bag while Boyd looked around. He dragged in a heavy breath, the wild smell of freshly presented werewolf soaked into the fabric -- namely, fear and sweat, doused in lycanthrope pheromones. He was so focused on the scent of the sweatshirt that he didn't notice Boyd go stock still until his partner called for him. 

"Derek." 

Derek looked up, taking in his partner's rigid stance and moving cautiously to his side. It wasn't until he was standing next to Boyd, looking around for whatever had disturbed him, that the other scent hit him. It had the metallic edge of blood to it, and it was familiar in a horrible, terrifying way.  

Kate.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have commnted! I had a flare-up of tendonitis this week from finals so I wasn't able to finish the next chapter. I will have it up by 12/17! Apologies, lovely readers.


	17. The Pup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh I'm so late with this one. My apologies. I had tendonitis flare ups that slowed me way down, but they are better now.

Derek couldn't move for a long time, the combination scent of Kate and blood paralyzing him, until his stomach heaved and his hands went cold. He barely reached the filthy dumpster before he threw up what felt like everything in his stomach. 

Boyd was next to him immediately, crowding closer to block out that wretched scent with his own familiar pack smell. It helped calm his body, but his mind was far from calm.

His mouth tasted of ash. Derek squeezed his eyes closed, but there was nothing but smoke, embers, and strangely bright stars in his mind. 

Boyd's hand dropped to his neck, tight but gentle, and Derek heard his voice through the haze.

"It's not her. It's similar, but it's not her, Derek. Just another Argent."

Derek wiped his hand over his mouth. The acrid leftover taste of bile felt like it might poison him. He inhaled sharply, like ripping off a painful bandaid, but it was useless to try to sort through the smell of hot garbage, sewer, blood, and  _her._ He'd just have to trust Boyd's judgement that it was dissimilar enough to be another Argent. 

"So all the Argents reek." Derek straightened, and Boyd kept a hand on his back in comfort. He felt rather than saw his beta offer his neck to him and Derek scented him automatically. There wasn't a day that went by that Derek didn't appreciate Boyd having his back, especially with this job. 

"At least we know who we're dealing with," Boyd pointed out softly. It didn't mean much -- it was exactly as Derek had suspected. The Argents were usually behind this kind of mindless, tactical murder, but they didn't usually do it so... personally.

"The girl." The job at hand returned to him with that thought. He wasn't allowed to just be Derek, whose parents were murdered by the Argents, he also had to be Derek the FBI agent, tasked with protecting other lycanthropes from similar fates. "She can't be left alone." 

Boyd gave him another moment to breathe before they retraced their steps down the block to the youth shelter. The blond woman who greeted them earlier caught them at the entryway, sweeping them along down the hall to an open room with rows of beds. A few teenagers were sitting on the beds, talking in small groups, except for one who sat alone with earbuds in at a bed tucked in the corner. This was the teenager the shelter coordinator introduced them to. 

"Malia." The no-nonsense woman jerked a short arm between them. "Can we all talk in my office?" 

The girl's eyes drifted slowly between Derek and Boyd, and Derek sort of wished that he wasn't wearing his black leather jacket and the sunglasses Stiles always told him looked "serial-killer cool", whatever that meant. He hadn't really planned on taking in scared pups today. 

The girl quietly gathered her things and followed them back to the shelter coordinator's office, her head down. Derek could smell a similar mix of fresh lycanthrope fear and sweat coming off her, just like the other girl's sweatshirt, but the fear wasn't as poignant as he expected.

As soon as the door was locked behind them, Malia's eyes came up from the floor and drilled into them.

"You're here to... take me to a pack?" 

"Yes."

"I don't want to leave without Laura." The girl crossed her arms in front of her chest. Derek guessed at 15, maybe 16, based on her tough posturing. The younger they were, the harder it was to look anything but scared. He could still remember Isaac's terrified eyes. "You have to look for her first." 

"We are, and we will keep looking for her. But we also want to make sure nothing happens to you," Derek explained, lowering his voice to something soothing. He pocketed his sunglasses, Stiles's voice in his mind. 

 "She's my friend." Malia bit her lower lip.

"We're here just for that reason -- to look for her," Boyd offered.

"We will do everything we can," Derek assured her too. "Do you have anything you can tell us?" 

The girl worried her lip for a beat before shaking her head. 

"Anything could be helpful," Boyd encouraged her. "What happened to her before she came here, who her parents were, if she had siblings --" 

"None of that." Malia shook her head. "We both liked the same kind of music. She..." Malia looked at the ground. "She helped me. She wasn't afraid of me when I first got here." 

Derek understood -- he really understood that. Everywhere he went in the human world, he was greeted with confusion and wariness, and sometimes hate. An easy face was enough for friendship in that kind of environment.

"We need to get you to safety so we can focus on finding your friend. Are you ready to go?" 

She looked up at him, a little lost, but with a hard edge to her features: determination. 

"Yes." 

 

* * *

 

After dropping Malia off at the territory, they spent another two days learning frustratingly little about Laura's life before she came to the shelter, and where she could have been taken to by the Argents -- or, more likely at this point, where they could recover her body. Her human family had written her off, didn't even report her as missing. They wouldn't talk to them even when they told them it was a life or death situation for their daughter. For the Argents, they weren't any closer to discovering their headquarters, though they suspected their operation was wide-ranging based on the pattern of reports matching their MO all over California, including Beacon Hills, where a teenager had disappeared two years earlier in a similar way. 

When Derek returned to the territory, he needed Stiles in the worst way. Stiles may have been physically craving him while he was gone, but Derek never coped well with losing cases like this one. They handed the case off to another lycanthrope pair to continue investigation, but Derek knew they wouldn't find anything -- the Argents were skilled in what they did, too skilled. 

When Stiles pulled him hastily from the car, the pull brightening his eyes to a glowing silver, Derek gladly went into his arms. They scented each other tightly as Boyd hung up the keys to the car and left them to each of their own unique desperations. Derek was quiet as Stiles talked at him, and thankfully Stiles knew exactly what that meant. He took him back to their home, made him dinner, and ate with him, chattering buoyantly about nothing much to lift Derek's permanently low spirits. He slept with his nose in Stiles's neck.

Derek woke up to strange nightmares, an ashen taste in his mouth, sweating and shaking. Blessedly, Stiles seemed to sleep through it next to him, and remained sleeping when Derek returned from running the woods to clear his mind of vivid flashbacks to the night his parents died. 

He tended to his alpha duties for the rest of the week, focusing on preparing the pack to attend Regionals. He was able to eat most meals with his mate and answer the pull in him with scent marking and regular visits to the clinic throughout the day.

Malia's integration was now a priority for him, which gave him and Stiles an excuse to meet up throughout the day. She was the first pup Stiles had direct oversight over, as Hayden had come to them when Stiles was away at medical school. Deaton had stepped back to let Stiles try to mentor her.

It was not going well.  

"That's... that's mine." Stiles frowned at Malia as she took his stethoscope and tapped on one end of it, tilting her head to listen.

"So I can hear things really well now. That's cool." Malia directed her comments to Derek, seemingly ignoring Stiles. "I can hear my heartbeat just fine without this thing. Do you have hearing problems or something?"

Derek couldn't help grinning as he watched his mate try to take the stethoscope back from her hands only to get batted away savagely. Stiles hissed and rubbed his hand. 

"And the smells! Stiles smells like coffee and candy. You kind of smell like allspice." Malia finished playing with the stethoscope and traded Stiles for his otoscope.

"Say ah!" Malia mocked, holding it up to Stiles's face. 

"I- give that back." 

"I want to try the robes next." She prodded at Stiles's healer robes. Heat rose to Stiles's cheeks, as it tended to do when he lost his patience. 

"Alright! That's enough. Give it," Stiles growled, hand stretched out for the otoscope. Malia handed it back with a little sigh. 

"Jeez, relax. I was just curious." Malia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she reluctantly let Stiles examine her eyes. 

"Gold," Stiles reported back to Derek. "Normal beta color. Looks healthy." 

"Yours are silver," Malia noted, moving purposefully away as Stiles tried to look in the other eye. Derek could smell his mate's frustration now, rolling off of him in waves. He could also smell something interesting coming off of Malia -- attraction. And he didn't think it was directed at him.

"That's because I'm full of shit," Stiles mumbled as he held her head in place and looked in the other eye. 

"Wouldn't that be brown?"

"Yes, it would be." Stiles leaned back and wrote something on his chart. "Any nausea? Dizziness?" 

"Derek's are red, but no one else's eyes are silver," Malia pointed out, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

"No one else has a uterus in their ass, either. I'm just full of fun surprises. Shift for me." 

"What?" Malia jumped as Stiles pushed her gums up to look at her teeth. 

Stiles did love freaking people out with that.

"Shift." 

"Is that going to happen to me too?" 

"If you don't shift for me it might." 

"No," Derek stepped in finally. Stiles shot him an annoyed look, but Malia seemed to relax. She shifted, probably just to get Stiles's fingers out of her mouth sooner. "Stiles is my true mate, so his body is different from other betas."

"Normal." Stiles stepped back. "Everything looks good. Now get out of here and find Hayden." 

Malia quickly hopped off the exam table and escaped through the clinic doors. Stiles sighed and leaned against the table himself, rolling his eyes at Derek. 

"I thought you were working on your bedside manner," Derek teased him, feeling vaguely happy and relaxed from watching his mate work.

"I warned you and Deaton about this." Stiles tutted, pushing off the table to put his medical supplies away. "You both told me to go into medicine anyway. I blame you." 

"She's 16," Derek bit back his smile. "And we found her in a youth homeless shelter. Give her a break. And don't let her push your buttons."

"Fine. You're right, as usual." Stiles looked a little guilty. "Deaton says she's my karma for giving him such a hard time when I first got here," 

"Probably," Derek chuckled. 

"I wasn't that bad," Stiles jerked a thumb over his shoulder in Malia's direction. Derek just laughed in response. "I was? Oh shit." 

"You're going to have a lot of different personalities come through here. I need you to get along with them," Derek scolded his mate lightly. 

"She seems fine, honestly. I'm not worried." 

"None of them are 'fine' when they first come." Derek shook his head. "Even Isaac, who was happy to be here, went through a grieving process. Remember that. She may be happy to have a safe place to live, Stiles, but she will go through her own issues in these first three months and beyond." 

"Alright," Stiles sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I get it. I'll be the bigger person." 

"I had to do that with you too, if you remember," Derek repressed another grin as embarrassment sparked in Stiles's eyes. "You had a lot to say to me at first." 

Stiles pushed between Derek's legs and pressed his nose to his neck, his hands clenching at Derek's shirt. 

"I like you now." 

"Thanks." 

"Sorry I sucked when I first got here," Stiles mumbled against his skin. It tingled pleasantly. 

"You were normal. Remember that." Derek nuzzled his mate and carded a hand through his soft hair. He wouldn't mention Malia's attraction to him -- there were certain things he knew as the alpha that he didn't have the right to know. He did his best to keep other people's secrets secret, when it was within his power. 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles started shaking in the early hours of the next morning. Derek woke from the tremors on the bed, and he rolled over to watch his mate's peaceful face for a while. When Stiles started to show signs of discomfort, like the cold was getting to him, Derek pulled him tight against his body and listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat as he felt him settle. He fell back asleep waiting for Stiles to wake naturally.

He woke much later than intended to Stiles pawing at him urgently. 

"If I don't get your cock in me in the next ten minutes, we're going to have a problem," Stiles breathed against his cheek before kissing Derek more thoroughly than he was awake enough to respond to.

"You are so elegant in the morning," Derek said, slightly exasperated by how direct his mate could be. But he quickly rose to find pants for the trek from their house to the heat house.

"God, those look amazing on you." Stiles's eyes glazed over with hunger as he watched Derek dress. Derek looked down in confusion at the sweatpants he'd thrown on. 

"Hurrying would probably be good," Derek concluded, throwing Stiles a pair of sweatpants from his drawer. 

They barely made it to the heat house before Stiles was on him, practically tearing through what little clothing he was wearing. Derek couldn't remember ever undressing so quickly before.

Stiles had him on the ground in record time, sliding onto him with a look of ecstasy that captured all of Derek's attention. Almost as soon as he seated himself on Derek’s hips, he stopped, his eyes clearing somewhat.

“What?” Derek asked, already breathless.

“This is the first time…” Stiles looked down between them, his hands running across the planes of Derek’s chest, feeling the muscle there, “without protection.”

The thought had Derek’s cock twitching with interest and saliva gathering in his mouth. He swallowed hard.

Stiles’s eyes warred between lust and worry. Derek reached up and stroked a hand across his cheek, trying to connect with him through the touch. Stiles tipped into it, breathing hard through his nose. He took another shuddering breath, nosing against Derek’s wrist, and then he started to move.

Derek could only watch as Stiles rode him to a quick and brutal release. Derek enjoyed the way Stiles bit his plump lower lip, how his hair got messed up into adorable spikes, the way his long torso rippled with effort as he slammed back on Derek's cock with impressive enthusiasm. 

"You want my cock in you that bad? My come?" Derek whispered, pressing his thumb into Stiles's mouth. "Want me to put a baby in you?" Derek shivered as the words passed his lips, a long held fantasy come to life. He pressed his other hand to the tight clench of Stiles's stomach, satisfying some primal, deep instinct. Stiles's eyes widened and his teeth edged against Derek's thumb. Derek felt wet heat splash along his stomach. 

His knot expanded and pulled a long groan from him as Stiles tightened around him. Stiles slumped to Derek's chest with what sounded like quiet sobbing. His shivering faded as Derek stroked a hand down the long expanse of his back. 

"Jesus, that was close," Stiles whimpered, his lips brushing Derek's nipple. Derek shuddered. "I almost threw you down in the woods." 

"We didn't make it to the box," Derek pointed out, glancing to his right at a large wooden box that definitely wasn't there the last time they spent their heat here. Stiles laughed, the movement jostling Derek's cock inside him and milking another spurt of come from him. 

"Look at that. They really outdid themselves, didn't they?"

"I can't imagine it's comfortable," Derek frowned. 

"It'll be ok, Sourwolf." Stiles patted his chest appreciatively. "We'll make it good." 

Derek's chest warmed as Stiles casually tossed his promise from so many years ago back at him. 


	18. The Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marry Christmas! Coincidentally, my posting dates are Sundays. Hope you eat some yummy food and talk to people you love today.

Their ritual enclosure wasn't quite as bad inside as it looked on the outside. Soft blankets filled the bottom of the box, and when Stiles plugged in the mysterious cord attached to it, what looked like white christmas lights lit up the inside with a pretty glow. 

"Nice touch." Stiles grinned, peering inside. 

Derek kept his remaining reservations to himself as he gingerly crawled into the box. It was tall enough that he could kneel fairly comfortably, though his head did bump the top. It looked just wide enough for them to lie down side by side without bumping the walls. 

"Loosen up, Sourwolf," Stiles crooned as he crawled in after him. His eyes sparkled with what looked suspiciously like mischief.

"A little tight," Derek commented, though watching Stiles stretch out on the blankets, his body a palette of soft lights and darks, left him with few complaints. His skin looked creamy and supple.

"Yeah," Stiles sighed, humming happily and closing his eyes into the blankets. His lips edged into a little smile. "I am. You could loosen me up." 

Derek scoffed, but he smiled too, despite himself. He draped himself over Stiles, and Stiles's legs parted for him without hesitation. He nestled his hips between Stiles's thighs, nuzzling the skin along his mate's neck, and tasted the skin there, so ripe with his delicious scent. He let his hand travel down Stiles's side, sliding between his legs too and pressing between his cheeks to press against the wet, plump pucker. He slid his finger inside, relishing the tight give, only to find his own come slicking the inside. 

"God," Derek shuddered at the feeling and the concept of filling Stiles so well like this. 

"Yeah, baby," Stiles's eyes pulsed silver, "you like that." It's not a question because Stiles knew all too well how much Derek liked it. Derek's favorite past time was filling Stiles up until he was dripping. 

Derek surged up to press an open kiss to Stiles's parted mouth, tangling their tongues in a way that had Stiles groaning. The sound went straight down Derek's spine, his already full cock twitching with need. Derek fingered Stiles's hole, felt his slick come inside, smelled _them_ on the air, and swiftly hauled Stiles's legs up until they were wrapped around his back. 

When he sank into his mate, Stiles cried out, a sound that curled Derek's toes. 

Stiles chanted encouragement as Derek lost himself in his mate's body -- warm and wet, tight and clutching at him in a way that seemed stronger during his heats, like Stiles's body wanted him to come as much as much as Derek did. Sometimes, like now, Stiles seemed to catch one of Derek's instincts and chase it until Derek was a shivering mess against him. He whispered against Derek's ear, in between moans, just how much he wished Derek would fuck him harder, deeper, so he can feel it for days. Plug him until his body has no choice but to get pregnant. Breed him. 

Derek came to a stuttering halt at those words, his dick throbbing inside Stiles's hot body, his knot filling out all at once as he shuddered into an orgasm. A few seconds later Stiles shook against him, his soft whispers catching on a longer moan as Derek felt wet heat between them. 

"Mmmm..." Stiles pressed his lips to Derek's cheek. "That was some good lovin'." 

"Your thighs are trembling," Derek ran a hand fondly along Stiles's legs as they unfurled from around him. "You ok?" 

"Just a little rattled." Stiles grinned, his cheek pressing against Derek's. "I probably shouldn't have egged you on like that." 

"I'm not going to complain." 

"How ironic would it be..." Stiles laughed and shook his head, pressing another casual kiss to Derek's shoulder before relaxing back against the bedding. "Never mind." 

"It's a possibility now." Derek knew what he was trying to say. "But don't get your hopes up, ok? It could take us a few years." 

"I know. No, I do. People have been telling me that for, well, as long as we've been together."  

"So what do we do now?" Derek wondered, using his real curiosity as a convenient turning point for their conversation. He also didn't want to get his hopes up too high, and talking about it wasn't helping that.

"Hey, I know what you know -- stay close, stay together for a long time, until the scents have time to unify or some shit."  

"... or some shit. Is that your medical opinion?" 

"Everything is my medical opinion. Came with the coat," Stiles laughed into his shoulder. Derek took a moment to appreciate Stiles's strange sense of humor. 

"This probably wasn't the best position for this, now that I think about it..." Derek realized belatedly. Stiles could easily become uncomfortable with Derek's heavy body over him for hours. But they were knotted now, and it was not an easy task to shift position after knotting -- sometimes an impossible one.

"I like it." Stiles squeezed him, nuzzling against his ear. His breath sent shivers through Derek's spent body. "I like your weight on me." 

"Just tell me if it's too much." Derek nuzzled him back. It was nice to have this kind of privacy with Stiles. In their daily pack life they held back a lot, didn't touch or talk too much. But when it was just them... it was heaven. One of the many blessings of Stiles's heat -- time spent just the two of them, with no interruptions, no obligations, just their bodies and their feelings for each other. 

They talked, and touched, for a long time before Stiles drifted off to sleep. Derek tried to arrange them into something more comfortable once Stiles was safely sleeping, as he was hard to wake. He didn't think Stiles could detect it with his beta sense of smell, but he could feel the air changing around them, if gradually. Their scents weren't this concentrated usually, and a slow shift had taken place as they spoke so that their complimentary scents were becoming more like one scent. Derek fell asleep tracking the steady, minute changes with each breath. 

* * *

_Derek's feet hit the ground, his legs burning with excess energy as he ran faster than he could remember. The air tasted of smoke that burned his lungs as he sped through the territory. Boyd was behind him, both of them abandoning the car at the entry to the territory._

_He could hear waling, the voices of his pack mates crying out into the dark night._

_His feet carried him to the edge of the burned-down ruins, through the throng of pack mates gathered in a tight group, through the smell of tears and pain and terror._

_Boyd pulled him back as his feet tried to carry him farther, into the dark pile of charcoal and ash, still glowing dimly with heat._

_A cry ripped itself from his chest, mindless words and wordless pleas falling from his mouth as his legs gave out. His claws grew from his fingers and ripped through the grass, chunks of dirt sticking to his hands as he tore at the ground._

_Beneath the scent of burning wood and material, a familiar scent was warped with ash._

* * *

_The grief was still unbearably ripe, but it must be done._

_A pack needs an alpha._

_The rightful alpha was gone, so the husk of himself that was leftover would have to do. Maybe in time he could become something the pack could respect. He desperately hoped for it. They deserved more than what he was now._

_The words the elders spoke to the pack, all convened in the ancient halls of the House, echoed not just against the walls but through his empty body. It could be the biggest moment in his life, maybe the most important, but he was too numb to even open himself up for the elders' words of grief and blessing._

_When all the speeches were made, the blessings bestowed, Derek stood. He felt the pack's eyes on him as he moved to the center of the hall. Peter was the first elder to come to him. He scented him, and Derek scent marked him by rubbing their wrists together. It was a wooden movement on his part. Then Peter kissed his forehead. He could smell his uncle's tears as he drew back and met his eyes. Peter's beta gold eyes flared, and Derek felt his eyes flare in response. The air thickened between them with their combined scents._

_One by one his pack, so familiar and yet new to him now that he took on their lives as his own, came to him in a similar way, acknowledging both his grief and their acceptance of his leadership in some way._   _His heart filled, almost against his will, with each touch of his pack mates, with each kind word whispered in his ear as they scented him, with the feeling behind the gifts pressed into his hands. As he stood in the middle of the room, anointed with the scent of each of his pack mates, he was reminded that as alone as his parents' death had made him feel, he would never truly be alone._

 _As one, they walked from the halls of the House and ran the forest, the same pack, but reborn._  

* * *

_"It's not goodbye, brother." Cora's eyes shined with tears despite the forced smile. "It's not a goodbye."_

_"Don't pretend, Cora. That doesn't make this better." Derek's own face was wet with tears. He didn't think he had anything left in him to break, but reality was resolute in showing him how utterly foolish he could be. But there was pride there, too. Cora would be what his parents had always wanted her to be -- her own alpha, with her own pack to lead. She had grown and learned well. It was time for her, even if Derek still needed her here with him._

_After all, a pack needs an alpha._

_"We'll see each other," Cora insisted, grasping the back of his neck, rubbing her wrist there in an almost urgent way. It was an intimate way to scent mark him._

_"You'll do so well," Derek gave his blessing. "Don't let your impatience get the best of you. You'll be a strong alpha."_

_"Nothing like you," Cora pulled their foreheads together, closing her eyes and biting her bottom lip. Derek scent marked her back, along her neck as she did to him. Their scents mingled in a familiar, comforting way between them._

_"I'm nothing," Derek allowed himself that small moment of honesty. Cora was no longer his pack mate -- he could be upfront about his feelings of inadequacy. He didn't have to pretend in front of her anymore. "Nothing compared to them."_

_"You are my biggest inspiration. Did you know that?"_

* * *

_Derek could see him across the calm expanse of water, standing with his feet just in the water, watching him with a fever in his silver eyes. He'd felt the scent of him grow closer as he ran, heard the pounding of feet follow him down here._

_Something was stirring in him, had been for weeks. It was something he hadn't felt in years: completely awake, as though he'd been sleepwalking through life since... well, since that night. Old emotions that had escaped him bubbled to the surface again._

_Excitement._

_Longing._

_Desire._

_Derek watched him peel his clothes off, his eyes sticking to his chest, to the dark descent of hair from his navel to his pants. Then the sleek figure dove into the water and Derek was alone on the lake again._ _Derek's breath came in shuddering waves of barely contained energy in the deafening silence of waiting. He tried to ground himself before Stiles surfaced, but there was no containing how he felt about this. Derek had known that all along, he'd just refused to acknowledge it._

_When Stiles broke from the water only a few feet from him, some of the fever had cleared from his bright silver eyes. He looked more confused, more awake, but just as determined. His shoulders were sleek, the water running off his smooth skin. His dark hair flattened over his face. His scent bloomed over the water: clean from the run, pure. So strong that Derek could no longer deny his certainty. Derek's mouth watered from it, and with his senses heightened from the run he could almost taste Stiles on his tongue._

_Derek's chest stilled with resolve, the call inside of him taking a name that he'd thought fleetingly, hopefully before the more cynical side of him buried it deep:_ mate _._

_WIth the realization, Derek's thin control snapped. He moved quickly, taking Stiles's supple body into his hands, pressing his lips against his surprised gasp. He pressed and pressed, gathering the precious beta in his arms, until every muscle loosened in Stiles's body and he let Derek in just as readily as Derek demanded._

_Mate, his instincts sang to him. Mate._

* * *

_They'd made plans, specific plans. Detailed. Romantic -- with candles and a nice dinner and stargazing._

_But they'd never been great at sticking to their plans. Whatever was between them was too strong to map out on a calendar. It took them when it wanted, shaped them to what they were supposed to be, and never asked for their opinions on the matter. Sometimes, Derek was infinitely grateful for that. He spent most of his life planning, controlling, and limiting. To have this thing between them be so wild and uncontrollable was a kind of blessing, an excuse to give himself over._

_Stiles rolled onto his stomach under Derek, biting at his arm to keep from biting Derek's neck. It was something Derek had seen him do a lot over the past few months. Suddenly it just seemed so ridiculous to him. They'd decided they were ready, set the date, and yet he still had to watch Stiles struggle with his control every time they came together like this. Derek could understand before, when Stiles needed time, but now there was no reason to hold back._

_"Let it go," Derek insisted, tugging Stiles's arm from his mouth. Stiles blinked up at him in confusion, his bright silver eyes wet with tears of exertion. Lately, it was an exercise in willpower for them to fall asleep next to each other, let alone have sex. "Just let it go," Derek breathed, kissing his trembling eyelids and swiping at the tears on his cheeks. "We're ready for this."_

_Stiles's breath shuddered as Derek saw realization dawn, his eyes flaring bright silver. Longing so deep Derek instantly recognized it emerged in Stiles's expression._

_"We're ready," Derek repeated, tilting his jaw to the side._

_Stiles surged against him, long limbs wrapping around every part of him, his mouth hot against Derek's neck. At first it was soft, just kisses and wet touches of lips to skin. Then the hard edges of Stiles's teeth scraped against him, pressure gathering steadily until it was abruptly painful._

_Derek's teeth sank, without teasing, into the supple skin of Stiles's neck, just below his scent glands. The awful taste of blood immediately filled his mouth, but it was something he knew to expect. They liked to bite each other, just playing with their own instincts, which was fine for play-- as long as it was never mutual._

_It was mutual this time._

_A powerful feeling shocked through him, rippling from the crown of his skull down through to his toes. It replaced every bad feeling -- the taste, the pain -- and overwhelmed all other feelings. It wasn't quite pleasure, not quite happiness, something brighter than contentment and different than ecstasy. It shook his body with its overwhelming force, pulsing like an orgasm. Instead of dying out it seemed to grow with each wave until Derek thought it might be too much, that he might explode out of his body._

_But Stiles was there, clutching him close, the slick of their skin moving together keeping him tethered to reality even as his mind whited out with the intensity of the feeling. He grasped blindly at him, and suddenly he realized the loud sounds in his ear were Stiles's too-quick heart pounding in his chest and both their gasps riding the air._

_Finally it receded, in waves as it had come, until he could open his eyes, could taste Stiles's newly healed skin against his lips, could feel his hot, damp skin against his fingertips, could smell them in the air._

_That_ scent _._

 _Derek had always itched for something from their scent, something more. He'd pressed them closer, rubbed them together in every way he could, and it had never satisfied him the way this did._ This _was it. The scent of them together was deep now, tangled in ways it never had been before. It was like sliding a puzzle piece in the right way after trying all the wrong ways. It smelled_ right. _It smelled like home. It smelled like family. Derek had never smelled anything like it, and he didn't think he would ever find something that could compare._

_"Derek," his mate panted at him, eyes too bright. "God, Derek," Stiles's voice was so breathless, overwhelmed. Derek nuzzled at him, letting him know he was here, he had him, he wouldn't let go._

* * *

"Derek." 

Derek thought he opened his eyes, but it was difficult to tell if he was awake or still dreaming. Everything seemed kind of technicolor and swirly. The world slowly solidified into real colors and real shapes and Derek realized one of those shapes was the familiar curve of his mate's silver eyes. 

"Wake up," Stiles urged him, his lips pressing urgently to Derek's cheek as his hands shook Derek's shoulders a little. "God, Derek. Come on." 

The words echoed in their familiarity, and Derek's mind returned to the present. 

"Stiles," Derek breathed out. His chest felt full with all the long-forgotten feelings the trance had pulled to the surface, both heartbreak and happiness. 

"Derek, I'm..." Stiles's words shuddered across his back as he clutched at him. "God." 

Derek processed his mate's trembling and seemed to settle completely into reality. He pulled back, worried he'd crushed Stiles for however long they'd been out, and took in the tears shining on his mate's flushed face. 

"Stiles," Derek wiped at the tears. His chest rose and shuddered to a fall as more tears appeared. A surge of concern wiped all other thoughts from Derek's head as he wondered what his mate was feeling, and why. 

"What did you see?" Derek asked carefully, his voice a little scratchy. 

"I saw..." Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. More tears fell, and Derek chased them away with urgency. "I think I'm... no, I don't think. I know. I'm pregnant." 

The words sunk through Derek like a heavy weight through water. He chased more tears from Stiles's eyes before he realized his mate was smiling a little. 

"Stiles... how can you...?" Derek wondered, doubt snaking through him even as hope flickered in his chest. 

"I know. I can't know this early, right? I shouldn't... I mean, I couldn't even medically detect..." Stiles shook his head too, his smile growing. "But I do. I'm sure. I'm pregnant." 

Stiles seemed so confident, but Derek couldn't let himself be convinced so easily. Not about something like this. 

"Baby, we just... I just don't want to be wrong about this. Did you... _see_ it in the ritual? Because it might have been farther in the future." 

"No." Stiles shook his head vigorously. "I feel it. Something changed. I wouldn't feel it normally, but I think the ritual super-tuned me into my body. Like, it's so subtle, but it's definitely there. Scent me, maybe you can tell." 

Derek delicately dragged a breath in. The air was so full with _them them them_ that it had every instinct inside him purring with contentment. Although it was thick with scent, Derek couldn't taste any fundamental differences in Stiles's familiar scent. 

"Nothing?" Stiles's eyes went wide. "Oh, fuck. Look, I know this sounds really crazy, but I know! And I need you to believe me. I don't care if other people don't believe that I can know this, but not you. Please, please believe me." 

Derek hesitated. Letting himself believe this would be painful if it turned out not to be true, but he couldn't deny Stiles something he asked for like that. "Needed" was a strong word his mate rarely used. 

"Ok." Derek sighed, a smile breaking on his face as he let go of his reservations. "Ok, I believe you." 

"Oh!" Stiles beamed back at him, his eyes still wet with tears. "Derek. Damn it. I was not ready for this today. I was totally bluffing when I was dirty talking you earlier." 

A blush rose to Derek's face as Stiles's words whispered through his memory. 

"Careful what you wish for, then." Derek shrugged, too happy to be truly embarrassed. 

Stiles pulled him down into a laughing, long kiss. 

* * *

Unfortunately -- but given Stiles's revelations, not too unfortunately -- Stiles's heat was over after that. They attempted to get dressed at least twice before actually succeeding (they got sidetracked with other more important things, like blow jobs) and headed back to the House.

Stiles usually ate them out of house and home after his heat, and today was no exception, even if the heat itself had been short. He headed straight for the fridge and pulled out more food than Derek could believe would fit in his stomach in one sitting. 

"I..." Derek was still smiling, couldn't stop himself. But some of his happiness faded as he thought back to the ritual. "I saw... different things. I saw our mating bite, but also... other important moments in my life, I think. Moments of strong emotion." 

"Yeah." Stiles had a cookie halfway to his mouth, and Derek took it as a huge show of interest that he actually stopped eating to reply to him. "I saw our mating bite, but I saw some bad stuff too: my mom dying, my dad arresting me."

"You got arrested?" Derek asked, shocked that this had never come up with them before, or in his long talks with John. "By your  _dad_? When?" 

"I was, uh, fifteen. Scott and I broke into the school and got drunk by the pool. It was really dumb, but it was fun." Stiles scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, my dad made me spend the night in jail." 

Derek couldn't help laughing. 

"Our kid is going to be a handful, aren't they?" 

"'Fraid so." Stiles beamed at him and finished stuffing the cookie in his mouth. "My dad has promised to say 'I told you so' whenever necessary." 

"Sounds like you'll deserve it." 

"Oh man. My dad. He is going to _freak_ when we tell him." 

A knock came at the door that surprised them both. It wasn't unusual for Derek to receive spontaneous house calls to resolve various pack issues -- he had a mostly open-door policy for his pack mates -- but it was a little alarming when they came so late, as darkness had long settled. 

Derek opened the door quickly, his heart racing with worry, and found Isaac looking somewhat... _bashful_ on the other side. 

"I'm sorry, alpha," Isaac said immediately, his eyes dropping to the ground. "I was sleeping in the pack pile and heard you both come back... it didn't sound like you were sleeping, so I thought..."

Derek glanced at Stiles, who returned his confusion (though the expression looked a little ridiculous with his cheeks bulging with food), before ushering the beta inside and closing the door.

"It's not... it's not urgent. I can come back," Isaac said immediately, staring at Stiles's enthusiastic eating. Stiles realized he was being watched and waved unapologetically at the beta. 

But Isaac was fairly polite, and they both knew it; Stiles threw Derek a look that said he understood the beta wouldn't be knocking on their door at this hour if it wasn't important. His mouth ticked up in an expression only Derek would recognize as explicit permission to interrupt their night of celebration. 

"I'll just... move myself to the bedroom," Stiles offered, gathering as many jars, packages, and cans as he could into his arms and teetering toward the bedroom. 

"Don't get crumbs on the bed." Derek called after him. Stiles grinned at him before closing the door.

Derek turned back to Isaac, who was nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot now. Derek scented the air more deliberately and felt an edge of anxiety to Isaac's mood. 

"Please, sit down." Derek gestured at the couch, seating himself at a chair facing the couch as Isaac gingerly sat where directed. Derek tamped down his excitement over Stiles's pregnancy news and grounded himself for a more serious discussion with his beta.

When Isaac showed no signs of speaking first, twisting his hands together and glancing at the door where they could both still hear Stiles gorging himself, Derek prompted him with, "Or we could take a walk?"

"No!" Isaac blurted. "No, here is fine. I don't want anyone to overhear."

"Ok," Derek agreed slowly. "Stiles might. Is that alright? We could also go somewhere more private."

"Stiles is fine. I don't want... someone specific to overhear."

"And who might that be?" Derek pushed gently.

"That girl," Isaac whispered. "The new one."

"Malia?" Worry clenched in Derek's gut. He recognized immediately that it was mostly irrational -- there were always problems with new lycanthropes, and they were rarely the kind of problems worth agonizing over. _Kate was an exception,_  he reminded himself, forcing himself to relax. 

"She's..." Isaac paused, his eyes wide and his hands clenching together. "Have you talked to her yet?" 

"Briefly. Isaac, is there something I should be concerned about?" 

"No," Isaac clarified quickly. "No, nothing like that."

Derek drew on every ounce of patience he had as he watched Isaac struggle with his words.

"It's just." Isaac's face was slowly turning red now. "Do you know if there's anyone she's... interested in? I remember you asking me that when I first got here. You probably can't tell me who, but it would be good to know if I even stand a chance."

Derek immediately relaxed, tamping down the smile that rose to his face as he realized what Isaac's worry revolved around. This was the kind of problem he preferred to help solve -- the one where no one was missing, or dead, or being tortured somewhere. It was also a fairly common issue he ran into as the alpha. Boyd and Erica had asked him to mediate their relationship not so long ago, when they were initialing figuring out the terms and expectations for their relationship, trying to model it after what he and Stiles were doing. Kira had also asked him for help when Scott first came, though she had been far less anxious about it than Isaac appeared to be. Sometimes, even older werewolves asked him to mediate a particularly contentious fight, regardless of the fact that they had years of experience over him in dealing with their own relationship. Derek had realized that having a third person was just helpful in some cases, even if he didn't do much.

"I haven't had a chance to talk with her about that yet," Derek told him honestly. He remembered his mother's teachings when pack mates brought up relationship problems with him: know what you're not supposed to know and what you're not supposed to share, but everything else can bring the pack together. "It sounds like you may be interested? Or do you think she's interested in you?" 

"I'm... interested. I don't think she's even thought about me. I haven't really talked to her that much yet." Isaac scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Or at all, really. She came by the kitchens to see if we had something specific, but she... she smells so great, you know?" Isaac's face was mostly red now. Derek had never seen the pale beta this shade before. "I just wanted to see if... it was a possibility. And maybe get some advice. I've never, you know. I mean, Erica and I had that thing, and there's been some stuff at regionals, but other than that... I don't really know what I'm doing." 

"Most of us don't," Derek reassured him. "I don't think you need to worry too much about a lack of experience." 

"But I don't want to scare her," Isaac whispered. "The last person I was interested in was Erica, and that was like... eight years ago. I just didn't expect it to happen again, I guess. I don't want to screw it up." Isaac twisted his hands together again as Derek nodded in understanding. "When do you think... she might be ready for me to ask?" 

Derek paused. 

"Ask what?" 

"You know." Isaac gestured in embarrassment.

Derek didn't know. 

"She's not yet an adult," Derek pointed out. If he was talking about asking her to be his mate, that would have to wait until she was at least eighteen. 

"I know." Isaac's face went redder. "So what should I do?" 

"Talking to her would be a start." Derek did his best not to smile as he suggested that.

"How? Hayden's mentoring her, and Hayden and I have nothing in common. We don't see each other outside of the pack run." 

"Regionals are next week so the pack will be together for events and activities. Regionals could be particularly overwhelming for a pup. You could help her with something."

"Like what?" Isaac pressed.

"You're an excellent cook," Derek thought aloud. "I could ask the elders to assign her to help with cooking preparations. That would give you an opportunity to get to know each other." 

"Oh." Isaac visibly brightened at the offer. "Thank you. Thank you so much." 

"Just keep in mind that she's not only young, but a pup. The transition is very fresh so she may not be herself right now. Try not to take it personally if she lashes out, or if she seems uninterested. Give her space and time. Then she may have a different reaction. I wouldn't try for anything but friendship right now, which she probably needs. That might even be the best thing for you both." 

"Yes." Isaac looked down. "Thank you, alpha." 

Derek scent marked him, and Isaac let himself out with a shy smile and wave. A few moments later, Stiles peeked out from the bedroom, a giant smile on his face. He bit his lip, tilting his head as they both listened until Isaac's footsteps faded beyond hearing. 

"Well that was the cutest little advice session I've ever heard." 

Derek lifted an eyebrow in warning. Stiles was bound by the same rules Derek was -- confidence between the alpha and his betas was a sacred trust. Violating it in any way could compromise the entire pack's respect for him.

"I'm not going to tease him. Promise." 

"You better not." Both of Derek's eyebrows went up. Stiles had never violated this confidence, so Derek wasn't really worried. Still, it was good to remind him that doing so would be a serious matter, especially when their night had been so lighthearted.

Stiles waved him off and disappeared back into the bedroom, reappearing a second later with all his food stacked in his arms as he moved back to their table for proper feasting.

Watching him eat (at a slower pace now, thank god) jolted Derek into the realization that he did have some idea who Malia was interested in.  


	19. The Fight

Derek was hopeful for regionals. He assigned Stiles to organizing duty, which meant he would be glued to his phone and hopping busy the whole time, with minimal space or time to rabble raise. All the preparations finished on time, and the appropriate number of buses showed up (last year had seen a serious overcrowding problem. Boyd had to sit on his lap half the way there. Neither of them spoke of it). He closed his new human case a day early and came home to Stiles waving a positive pregnancy test at him. 

All in all, Derek felt optimistic that the week would be all that it promised to be -- friendly competition and mutual overeating.

Regionals this year took place in Arizona, in a vast expanse of woods and desert right next to Lake Mohave. The location of regionals was usually chosen to ensure plenty of space for swimming, running, and what Stiles referred to as "werewolf badassery", the various werewolf strains of martial arts that most alphas learned as part of their tailored FBI training. Space and different terrain proved essential when gathering just over fifty different packs together in close quarters for a whole week. Also, a lot of space was needed to host the competitions -- between packs, between betas, between alphas -- over a million different things -- cooking, animal husbandry, metalworking, woodworking, werewolf badassery, and of course, sports. Lycanthropes loved soccer. Derek had seen some friendly tournaments turn positively brutal in his many years attending regionals.

His pack was small compared to most other packs at regionals, and they mostly preferred the lazier side of regionals, like the fun games and copious amounts of food, with a few exceptions. Deucalion and Kali formed a surprisingly talented (and vicious) duo that usually made it onto the winning soccer team. Kira was really coming into her own in her metalworking, and Scott had also been rising in the ranks of animal husbandry by showing the pack's animals. 

Which Stiles had the unfortunate duty, as best friend, of helping him with. Unfortunate mostly for Derek, since Stiles sat next to him for the five hour bus ride smelling distinctly of manure after assisting Scott in herding animals into the trailers. 

"It's a sign of how much you love me that you tolerate me smelling like this." Stiles grinned and nudged Derek's side as they sorted through their luggage at the end of the ride.

"That I'll agree with." Derek wrinkled his nose and delicately edged away. He grabbed his mates' bags and insisted on carrying them to their tent.

The design of the camping grounds split the fifty packs in attendance into manageable fields of five to ten packs. They were apparently in field number four, which looked to be on the smaller side. 

Derek groaned when he read the names of the other packs in field four off of Stiles's phone -- and their alphas. 

"Stiles. Do you remember what we agreed?" 

At his tone, Stiles peered over his shoulder and groaned too. His voice was low and annoyed when he spoke.

"That dick? We have to share a field with him?" 

"Yes. You remember?" 

"I won't talk to Finstock," Stiles grumbled. Derek saw a barely repressed eye-roll twitch in his eyes. "But if he talks to me, I reserve the right to snark just a little bit." 

"No." Derek shook his head, firm. "No fighting. No arguing. This isn't the place, or the time, for those kinds of conversations." 

"Derek, I'm up to my eyeballs MC'ing all these different events you so happily signed me up for." Stiles snatched his phone back with a grimace. "Message received." 

"That was before." Derek's heart jumped into his chest as his ever-present worry flared up. "Now there's a second reason." 

"What sec-- oh." Stiles softened immediately, his hand going to his stomach. It was likely an unintentional movement, as Stiles immediately pulled his hand away and glanced around. No one in the pack seemed to be paying attention to their conversation, though.  

While Derek had been even more ecstatic following Stiles's medical confirmation of his pregnancy, Stiles had asked him to keep the news to themselves for a few weeks. He wasnt sure how his male body would handle the early stages of the pregnancy, and tentatively explained his medical concern over a higher possible rate of miscarriage, especially in the first few weeks. His concern had hyper-tuned Derek's own instincts which maybe, possibly, explained why he couldn't physically bring himself to hand Stiles's bags over to carry for himself. It wasn't a rational kind of worrying -- Stiles could handle the weight of the bags easily, pregnant or not -- but Derek _needed_  to do something for him, and in lieu of anything real, he was doing anything and everything. 

"You shouldn't worry about that." Stiles shook his head as they walked through the campground, his eyes darting from his ipad to their surroundings as he led the way to their tent grounds. "Arguing wouldn't stress me out that much." 

"No, but fighting could," Derek pointed out. "I know I don't have a right to ask this from you, but I need it right now. No arguing. And definitely no fighting. Please. It's not worth it." 

Stiles was quiet the rest of the way until they stopped at their plot of land, which was marked "Hale pack" with a metal plate boosted from the ground by sturdy metal stakes. The pack filed around them easily enough, picking out different spots of sort-of-grass and shrubless sand to set up their own tents. Derek could smell the lake not more than half a mile off, just on the other side of the line of trees at the edge of the plot. Derek thought it was a good spot. 

"Alright," Stiles finally sighed. "I won't. I promise." 

"Thank you."

Derek set their bags down and squeezed Stiles's shoulder with one arm, nuzzling the side of his face. Then he immediately stepped back and wrinkled his nose because Stiles still smelled strongly of animal manure. He was starting to understand why he saw Scott swimming in the lake so often. 

 

* * *

 

The pack settled in within an hour or two, varying shapes and colors of tents springing up in the previously empty field amidst a buzz of chatter and laughter. Then most of the pack scattered to pick through the other packs and find old acquaintances, friends, and lovers. Beyond long-distance friendships and past packmates (for those who moved packs at some point in their lifetime), hookups were common at regionals. Derek thought the yearly tradition gave birth to some strange and sometimes extreme relationships. Though werewolves were generally stringent monogamists, even the older unmated werewolves were prone to hookups and flings during regionals.

Derek used to find it puzzling. He'd been approached over and over by foreign pack members for this kind of one-off relationship, although after some early experimentation he'd found it didn't suit his personality at all. But he understood why it appealed to some in his pack. The close-knit pack environment didn't really lend itself to hookups, so many lycanthropes waited until regionals to let loose all and any sexual curiosity they didn't feel comfortable exploring inside the pack. 

Thankfully, now that he was mated his scent was muted to others, so it was unlikely he'd attract any attention. And since he became alpha of the pack, regionals were less about pleasure and more about business, so he didn't have much time to mingle with foreign lycanthropes as his packmates. 

That was his next stop after setting up their tent. Before the first dinner, the alphas of all the packs gathered. It was usually an informal meeting to discuss events of the year and common pack issues. 

Stiles came along with him most years, but he generally found meet-and-greets boring, while acknowledging their political necessity. But it was jarring for Derek to spend too much time in close quarters with other alphas, their scents often clashing with his own, so Derek appreciated his mate's presence and support. Cora was there, at least, so Stiles could spend time following her around while Derek spoke politely with other alphas his pack traded with regularly.

This year, the alphas met at an event hall of a nearby resort, not more than fifteen minutes walk from the campgrounds. Wolfsbane-spiked drinks and home-grown appetizers of various meats and vegetables decorated each table. Stiles glared at the wolfsbane drinks, which Stiles had irritably informed him earlier that he couldn't drink while he was pregnant, but immediately heaped the food on his plate. Derek noticed that he'd already started eating more, though Stiles usually ate a lot even when he didn't have something growing in him. Once Stiles finished piling appetizers high on his plate, he slipped off to Cora's table. Derek sat down next to a table of alphas he recognized, some of whom had known him since he came with his mother years earlier. Derek knew almost everyone's name and pack at this point, but some of the younger alphas and the alpha mates who didn't always attend were still strangers to him. 

After a while of free talking, an alpha elder took to a podium at the front of the hall and silence moved over the room. She waited, her eyes flashing red, until every head turned her way. 

"My fellow leaders, welcome to the regional gathering of California, Oregon, New Mexico, Arizona, and Nevada lycanthropes. These human boundaries don't bind us, as we know, so we come together each year to pay tribute to our commonalities, celebrate our strengths, and build our alliances. Regionals are a joyous time, and I'm happy to see many friends in this room, both new and old." 

"This year, we lost one of our own, and a dear friend of mine and mentor over the many years she served her pack. Alpha Morrell's passing this year saddened us. She will be deeply missed." 

Derek had known alpha Morrell, an aged lycanthrope of over 100 years, and learned of her passing earlier in the year. He was unable to attend the alpha's funeral due to work obligations, though, so he was glad when other werewolves came to the podium and shared short stories of the alpha to rekindle her in his memories. Alpha Morrell acted as a leader at regionals when he was a child, and in some capacity up until she grew ill two years ago.  

The alphas bowed their head in silence to honor her passing when the stories had been told. Likely everyone in the room had already heard of her passing, so the sorrow was well worn. After a minute or so, the elder alpha stepped back to the podium.

"With every alpha's passing, we welcome the ascension of a new alpha. Please, Jordan Parrish, join me at the podium."

A young man with jerky movements stood from a table and walked up to the podium. He looked nervous as he stood next to the elder alpha, but she only introduced him to the room. Derek guessed his age at early to late twenties at best, and felt a pang of sympathy for him. He remembered when he first took over the pack and how terrifying the first year felt.

"Jordan Parrish, now alpha of the Mt. Shasta Pack, came to us from a Wyoming pack, so he is unfamiliar with many outside of his own pack right now. Please introduce yourself and show alpha Parrish around regionals this year -- we all remember how this feels. Tonight, we honor both alpha Morrell and alpha Parrish as we feast together. Thank you, alpha Parrish."

Murmured greetings filled the room as alpha Parrish made his way back to his table. The man seemed to relax somewhat at the kind smiles and waves, and Derek even saw a smile lift the corner of his lips before he took his seat. From across the room, Stiles's eyes trained on the alpha even as he took his seat, frowning.

The elder alpha moved on to trade and new lycanthrope updates, where more alphas took the floor to speak. Derek's attention sharpened when the conversation turned to missing pups. 

"The rate has increased -- we're seeing the same number of calls, but fewer and fewer pups actually make it to the pack, and this year my pack gained none." The alpha of one of the largest packs attending said to the increasingly agitated group of alphas. Derek could feel the fear and anger in the air, an acrid scent that spun his head. "Often, we show up to find the pup's gone missing. We've even made it a priority to show up within hours, but someone's getting to them first." 

More alphas in the room nodded their agreement. Derek swallowed back his own fear. 

"We may have to face the reality that the Argents have grown in number -- or that another organized group has started," an elder alpha noted, standing as the other alpha took her seat. "Do we have reason to believe these are a new pattern, or an extension of the old?" 

Derek stood. 

"If it was a new organization, I think we would have heard more through our informants, but it's been mostly quiet. If it's the Argents, which is my guess, it's important to realize that their pattern has shifted. They've acquired new information, leverage, or a position of some sort." Derek sighed, feeling the eyes on him. "Alphas who work as special consultants should meet this week to exchange information and strategize." 

"Agreed, alpha Hale." The leading alpha nodded, as did others in the room. Derek sank back into his chair, his heart heavy with his own words. "We'll make this matter a priority for alpha meetings during regionals." 

 

* * *

 

Regionals became a bizarre double reality after that. He went from watching his packmates in potato sack competitions and pie-eating contests to hours-long, detailed discussions of recently missing and murdered lycanthropes with other alphas and elders that went deep into the night. The biggest break-through for them came after mapping the missing lycanthrope reports and narrowing the area to a chunk of southern California. Derek found himself thinking about Laura, his most recent pup case, more often than not when he curled into Stiles at night and tried to settle his anxious thoughts into peace with the touch and scent of his mate.  

Stiles noticed his unusually low mood. Derek enjoyed regionals most years, even with the many alpha meetings he had to attend, but this year the topic wasn't much of a break from his everyday work. After Derek collapsed into their joint cot one night after a particularly long meeting where they'd compared notes on murder details, Stiles quietly stripped his shirt off and climbed onto his back, settling his weight over Derek's thighs as he started to rub Derek's shoulder muscles. Derek sighed and gripped his mate's thigh in thanks, closing his eyes to the aching relief as Stiles worked his magical hands over tired muscles. 

"I've been thinking about the Argents," Stiles said very quietly. They could hear the steady heartbeats of their sleeping packmates nearby, with only a few still awake at this time of night, but it was still thoughtful to keep such distressing matters quiet around the pack during such a happy time. "The name... it sounds familiar. Like something I heard a long time ago." 

"Kate Argent killed my parents," Derek breathed, barely a sound. "You've known her name since your first few weeks here." 

Stiles's hands paused on his lower back before starting up again, slow and soothing. 

"Even before that. Back when I was human." 

"Why wouldn't you remember?" 

"I think... it was something I heard in passing," Stiles mumbled. Derek was falling into Stiles's induced relaxation, his mind slipping into darkness quickly. The words barely registered with him. "Yes, I'm sure I heard it. I just don't remember the context." 

Derek fell the rest of the way into a restless sleep at those words.

 

* * *

 

Soccer was... well, Derek personally felt like many lycanthropes went overboard -- face painting and hand stitched jerseys and socks with people's faces printed on them kind of overboard -- for teams that only practiced and competed for a week. He would never in a million years _say that out loud,_ though. It was definitely the favorite sport, in his pack and virtually every other, and the matches were some of the best attended events at regionals every year.

Derek much preferred the earlier matches with the "worse" teams to the more competitive final matches. Earlier matches tended toward ridiculous debacles, like Erica tripping over Isaac and accidentally (or not so much, as the argument went for fifteen minutes afterward) pantsing a lycanthrope on the opposing team. But the final matches had more potential to turn from friendly competitions to fouls that involved blood on the field. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on who in the pack you asked, Deucalion and Kali almost always made it to the final two matches. All the alphas of the players were expected to support their packmates in the finals, so it would be uncomfortable for the pack, and for Kali and Deucalion, if he were absent. 

Stiles sat next to him, much more enthralled by the match than Derek could even pretend to be, shouting and leaping off the ground with each near-goal or kind-of-goal or sometimes just when the ball moved from their side of the field to the opposing side.  

Derek had almost nodded off when what felt like his entire pack jumped off the ground screaming at a deafening level. Almost simultaneously, the pack gathered directly on the other side of the field jumped off the ground too, screaming and howling. Derek tried to surreptitiously cover his sensitive alpha ears as he slowly got to his feet, sensing it was time for him to pretend he was paying attention. Stiles and Scott were hugging, thumping backs and jumping up and down, so Derek was the only one who seemed to notice as the alpha from the other screaming pack sped onto the field, looking murderous, and called the referee over. 

Derek gathered every ounce of his patience when he realized which pissed off alpha was on the field yelling at the referee. They'd managed to avoid him so far, even while sharing a camping field with his pack. Not wanting to escalate the situation by rushing, he jogged out onto the right side of the field, where the teams converged immediately to listen to the argument. His slow pace got the better of him, though -- Stiles darted past him, speeding quickly to the center of the fight. 

"What's the problem, Finstock? Can't handle losing?" Derek heard Stiles snarl. Cursing himself, Derek sped over the rest of the field to grab his mate by the wrist and pull him to his side to halt the chest-bumping yelling competition Finstock was obviously gearing up for. 

"I should expect this kind of cheating from a pack led by human-loving garbage like you," Finstock spat back, his face purpling. 

Derek's own vision whited out with rage and his "Stiles is pregnant so a mosquito better not bite him" feelings kicked in. He pulled his mate the rest of the way behind him and put himself between Finstock and Stiles. Before he could do anything else, a lycanthrope hurtled past him and landed on Finstock. The opposing alpha's keener senses allowed him to catch her and keep her at a distance before she could actually claw out his eyes, which helped Derek to identify her. 

Derek watched, frozen for half a second with Stiles frozen behind him, as Malia snarled and fought to break through the alpha's superior hold on her. Then, after that half a second, a familiar voice shouted, "Don't touch her!" and yet another lycanthrope threw themselves past Derek and Stiles and onto Finstock. Derek watched as Finstock went down hard under the combined weight of Malia and Isaac. They immediately dissolved from three separate bodies into an indistinguishable tangling of limbs and overlapping obscenities. The smell of blood bloomed in the air. 

That scent finally broke him out of his shock. With help form Boyd and Peter, who ran to his side along with half the pack at the sound of shouting, they worked to disentangle the brawling lycanthropes, grabbing at arms and kicking feet and dragging them in opposite directions. Thankfully, some of the lycanthropes from Finstock's pack grabbed him, and Boyd and Peter managed Malia while Stiles helped him with Isaac. He winced when Boyd took a foot to the jaw and struggled dazedly back before shaking it off and pulling again on Malia's leg.

The referee, meanwhile, continued to blow their whistle angrily through the process.

"Misconduct!" They bellowed when all brawling parties were safely five feet away from each other with at least two lycanthropes to restrain them. Malia's lip was split and Isaac had a nasty cut along his arm. Finstock's eyes glowed red and murderous as quickly healing scratch marks disappeared on his cheek.

"But they're not players!" Kali immediately protested, her eyes wild as she shoved through the gathered crowd. Deucalion was visibly fuming not far behind her. 

The referee blew their whistle angrily again, glaring at her.

"Ball to the opposing team! Words don't mean fists! Let it be a lesson!"

"She's a pup," Derek tried. While he didn't care one way or another about the game, he could read the mounting frustration in his packmates' faces. 

"No!" The referee blew their whistle loudly for good measure before aggressively waving them off the field. "Fighting will not be tolerated!" 

"You've _got_ to be kidding me." Kali threw her hands up and stormed back over to her team. The team was made up of a mishmash of different packs' lycanthropes. All of them were glowering at Malia as they reluctantly threw the ball over.  

"What... just happened?" Stiles whispered, panting next to him. 

Peter and Boyd let Malia go as Finstock retreated a safe distance away. Isaac's face was red and his blond curls messy when Stiles and Derek let him go. Derek shook his head at him in warning as he looked over his shoulder to glare at Finstock's back. 

 

* * *

 

Derek, Stiles, Malia, and Isaac gathered at a safe distance from the field so no one would overhear them. Once they stopped, though, Derek didn't know exactly what to say to his betas. On the one hand, he'd felt secret pleasure watching Malia do what he couldn't do as the alpha. But if he looked at the situation from his responsible alpha lens he would have to admit that his overprotective instincts were a little out of control, and Malia probably shouldn't be encouraged to solve her problems with eye gouging, even if the eyes belonged to Finstock. 

Derek was glad when Stiles solved his dilemma and immediately started scolding her, oblivious to her crush on him, or Isaac's crush on Malia, or Derek's knowledge of everyone's crushes while secretly condoning their behavior.

"As much as Finstock could use a good takedown, Malia, that was not smart. Smart would have been dazzling him with your wit and sarcasm that you love to practice on me when I'm trying to take your temperature. Now Kali and Deucalion's team had to forfeit the ball, and we were ahead!" 

Malia glared back at Stiles, crossing her arms. 

"He called you human-loving garbage." 

"So? I am human-loving garbage." 

Derek growled without realizing it. All three pairs of eyes turned on him. 

"You are not _garbage_." 

"Thanks, honey." Stiles sounded patient, like he couldn't believe it fell to him to deal with all of them at once.  

"Honey?" Malia's eyes went wide. 

Stiles cast a look of confusion at Derek. 

"Derek is my mate, Malia." 

Isaac stared at her too. Her mouth fell open, looking between them. 

"I thought you guys were just, like. Close. Best friends. Alpha and pack doctor." 

"We kiss. All the time." Stiles's eyebrows knit together. 

Malia looked like a dear caught in headlights. Isaac's eyes slowly tracked between her and Stiles. Derek wondered if he was figuring her crush out.

Stiles just rolled his eyes, oblivious to it all. 

"Oh my god. _Straight people_." 

Malia was looking at Derek now, a little fearfully. Oddly, Derek felt nothing but pity for the pup, especially after seeing her defend his mate like that.

"Anyway. To sum up, take the high road, use words not fists, blah blah inspirational statement blah. I don't care what that jackass says about me, I care if we win! So no attacking people, especially if it gives the other team the advantage.  _Finstock's_ team, I might add. And _Isaac_ \-- you should know better. Seriously," Stiles fumed, his eyes drifting back to the field as a yell went up from the crowd. "Ok, is that good enough, Derek? Let's get back. We're missing stuff."

"You go," Derek decided after a pause. "I'm going to talk with them for another minute."

"Ok," Stiles said, hesitating before he shrugged and headed back over the field. Derek waited until Stiles disappeared into the pack, then he turned to his betas.

"The pack might be pissed at you, especially if we lose this game," Derek pointed out quietly. "So if anyone gives you a hard time, let me know." 

A slow smile started on Malia's face as she glanced at Isaac. Isaac seemed to relax too. 

"You're not mad?" she asked, whispering like him.

"He called my mate garbage." Derek cleared his throat. "If Stiles asks, I yelled at you some more." Derek held his smile down under a frown that definitely wasn't convincing.  

"Yes, boss." Malia grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh! Sorry guys, my thesis is killing me and I've had no time to work. I'm now two weeks late on updating this ㅠ.ㅠ... thank you for your patience and I'm sorry this is so late now!


	20. The Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... I suck? Big apologies for the long hiatus <3\. I got stuck, and then I had to thesis, and then I got distracted with shorter sterek story ideas. 
> 
> I still have to thesis, but I am back on track again!

After that far too eventful match, Derek and Stiles were both too emotionally exhausted to do anything but lie around inside their tent listening to the pack noisily celebrate the close win outside. Between Stiles's organizing job that kept him on his feet all day and the three separate meetings concerning the missing pups that Derek attended that day in between pack events, neither of them could move more than to grab a blanket and drape it over their feet. Derek pulled Stiles's shirt up to his chest and rested his head against Stiles's bare stomach. 

"I can't hear the heartbeat yet." Derek sighed, digging his nose into Stiles's stomach and prodding a "hmph" of displeasure from his mate. 

"Patience, Sourwolf," Stiles mumbled, his eyes half closed as he stared up at the ceiling of their tent. "Of course you can't."

"I can smell them, though..." Derek inhaled deeply, and Stiles squirmed as his breath ticked him. Derek held him still with one hand on his hip. "They changed your scent. There's this hint of..." Derek thought how best to describe it. He was terrible at connecting smells to words. "Lilac. Sort of." 

"You think they smell like a flower?" Stiles asked softly, trailing a hand through Derek's hair. "I can't smell it anymore, I only scented it during the ritual."

"Not quite, but the scent reminds me of lilacs," Derek settled his ear back onto the smooth skin of Stiles's stomach, listening futilely. He could hardly wait until he had something, anything, tangible to hold up as proof that this was real, that it was happening. They were actually going to have a child. "Or maybe... lavender. One of those purple flowers." 

Stiles chuckled softly. 

"It was sort of sweet, I think, the scent. I thought it smelled more like fruit." Stiles's fingers trailed along the edge of Derek's jaw, rubbing pleasantly over his stubble. "Oh, god. You want to name them after a flower, don't you?"

Derek smiled and nuzzled at Stiles's stomach. Stiles laughed. 

"Well, only your super nose can detect any changes. Everything else is the same -- no weird exhaustion or food cravings. I feel totally normal." 

"Thank god." Derek sighed. "This week is shaping up to be rough enough with both of us healthy." 

"The pups," Stiles's fingers gently massaged the back of Derek's neck where he kept a lot of tension. Derek closed his eyes to the feeling. "You saved Malia, though. Let's count our blessings too. Don't just focus on the bad." 

"Barely." Then Derek smiled despite himself. "I've never seen Isaac like this." 

"He just jumped into that pile of hissing and spitting without a thought," Stiles snorted, bouncing Derek's head with his laughter. "And then she thought we were _friends._ Fuck." 

"You looked strange during the first alpha meeting." Derek remembered Stiles's face suddenly. In all the commotion of the week, he'd forgotten to ask about it immediately afterward. "Why?" 

"Alphas," Stiles sighed. 

"Should I be offended by that?" 

"Well, I think you're cute, obviously. Or, if you prefer, ruggedly handsome and very sweet, despite your appearance of grumpiness. But other alphas posture way too much, and then there's the whole smell thing -- the fact that they can't stand each other's scents? I don't even know why you all bother trying to squish yourself into a room together. My table was all stressed out. Even Cora couldn't take a joke," Stiles complained. "Maybe you could hold Skype meetings instead." Stiles brightened at his own suggestion.

"Tell the truth." Derek frowned, cutting through Stiles's words. He may not be able to hear their baby's (currently nonexistent) heartbeat, but he could hear Stiles's. Sometimes Stiles made the mistake of thinking if he talked enough Derek wouldn't be able to pinpoint where the lie happened, but that never actually worked out for him.  

Stiles was silent for a few seconds before he shifted slightly. 

"Ok, it's nothing new. Alphas don't like me for the usual reasons, exactly what Finstock said today," Stiles admitted under his breath. "It was... uncomfortable. There was staring."

"Staring? Or glaring?" Derek growled, furious at the thought of other alphas trying to intimidate his mate.  

"Let's just say... Finstock's not alone." 

"Fuck," Derek muttered. "This is because of your father." 

"I guess getting permission to bring him onto pack territory set a precedent for other elderly humans to move onto pack territory. Which is great -- that's what we wanted. Other betas around California are trying to do the same thing for their parents, in their packs now. But thinking about it, alphas come from two lycanthrope parents, so it makes sense that they wouldn't understand this. Still, alphas being pissed at me for my 'human loving' ideas isn't new." 

That was true, but it didn't make Derek any more comfortable. 

"Don't worry, I didn't say anything or argue about it," Stiles rushed to assure him, his hand petting Derek's hair again. "I know we're here to beat each other up on the soccer field and not in real life. We gave that lecture _together_ today, if you recall. I'll save the verbal sparring for the International Council." 

Derek sat up, feeling queasy. He was frightened of his _own people_. Usually he was afraid of humans, but this...

"I don't know if it's a good idea for you to go." The words came out before Derek could fully think them through. Fear pounded through him, his eyes on Stiles's exposed stomach. "If there's outright hostility... from other _alphas_? Jesus. Things could boil over at the International Council. It could get physical."

"Derek." Stiles stared at him like he'd turned into a different person. "I've been working on this policy package for years. I very nearly flunked my boards because of it. You can't actually be asking me to skip this. You can't." 

  
"You're..." Derek couldn't explain the sudden anxiety that came over him, but it was powerful, and deeply rooted in his lycanthrope instincts. "I need to feel like you're safe right now, Stiles." 

"Because of... the baby," Stiles surmised, somehow managing to look both understanding and annoyed.

"Not just that." Derek couldn't stand the mix of emotions in his mate's face, but he also couldn't reign in his own feelings. His instincts were going crazy; he knew better than to ignore them. "It's the missing pups. It's the tension with the other alphas. Add to that the list of human-related demands you want to push at the International Council? Hostility towards humans is the worst I've seen it in my lifetime right now, and I don't want you to become the face of human sympathy. Or a casualty of it."

Stiles tried to interrupt him, but Derek raised his voice to cut him off.

"You haven't been in these meetings with me -- for many alphas right now, humans are seen only as  _murderers_ of lycanthrope _children_. While it may be a generalization, it's also not untrue. These are the same alphas we'll be in close quarters with at the International Council." 

"Derek." Stiles's face fell, and Derek knew that while his argument was rooted in emotion it was also supported by sound logic. Stiles had a difficult time arguing with sound logic. "Don't ask this of me." 

"I know the legislation almost as well as you do," Derek tried, looking for an angle that could make this acceptable to his mate. "We've gone over the package a thousand times -- with Deucalion, with Peter, with the Elders. I can present it by myself, and you can prep me for the arguments you want me to make." 

"So it's fine for you to take the human hating bullet, but not me?" Stiles pushed back, looking fierce.

"Yes," Derek bit out. His claws slid out and his eyes were almost certainly glowing. Derek usually had control over his shifts, but this argument pulled it out of him -- and Stiles likely would see it as intentional posturing rather than a mistake. Predictably, Stiles glared at him in response. 

"I can't believe this," Stiles hissed, standing suddenly. Derek watched his mate stalk from the tent, not sure what to say to get him to stay. 

 

* * *

  

Derek waited restlessly, unable to sleep, until it became obvious that Stiles wasn't coming back. Sometimes Derek's scent, when he was angry or when he wanted Stiles to submit, hurt Stiles in a physical way. Derek tried to convince himself that's what it was, anyway, even though Stiles hadn't shown any physical sign of discomfort while they were fighting.

When the celebrations died down to quiet in their camp and Stiles still hadn't returned, Derek roused himself and quietly started searching for his mate. Most of the pack had returned to their tents, so Derek searched for Stiles's scent by walking around the campsite. He eventually caught Stiles's scent just outside of Scott and Kira's tent. He debated poking his head in to try to cajole his irritable mate to return to their tent with him, but there was a very real possibility that would prompt a loud fight that would wake everyone else up. 

He returned to his tent as alone as he left it, but more settled now that he knew his mate was in a safe place. 

The next day was the last day of regionals, and the day of the long anticipated soccer championships. As he stumbled bleary-eyed and tired from his tent, Erica and Boyd scolded him for not wearing the appropriate colors to support the team with Kali and Deucalion. They forced him back inside until he found something blue to wear. When he finally made it to breakfast his entire pack looked like blueberries. 

Stiles wouldn't sit with him at breakfast, sitting very deliberately on the far side of the pack with Scott and Kira instead. Derek tried hard not to look like he was moping about that, but Erica and Boyd cast him pitying looks all the same. Well, Erica did. Derek was pretty sure he imagined Boyd's pity, as the lycanthrope's face stayed as stoic as usual.

At least Isaac looked happy sitting next to Malia. 

 

* * *

 

 

Kali and Deucalion didn't win, and Derek was relieved. 

He tried to fake disappointment, of course, but losing meant they could go home that much sooner and Derek could finally collapse into a real bed, far away from depressing meetings and angry alphas. Even Boyd frowned at him during his lame attempt at a rousing speech for his now depressed pack. 

"Everyone pack up, I want us on those buses in an hour," Derek closed somewhat gleefully. Kali glared at him openly before turning to kick a rock in an arc that would probably end a mile away. The pack groaned and wandered off to their tents, most grumbling under their breath. 

Stiles ignored him as they packed their things in silence, keeping his eyes down and his mouth a stiff line. Derek ignored him too, but he tried not to look angry about it. He just wanted this whole experience over -- the abundance of pie had not softened the edges enough to make it worth it this year. 

Both of them jumped when two lycanthropes sped to the door of their tent. Derek took an instinctive step in front of Stiles when he recognized the lycanthrope leaning against the opening.

"Good show, Stilinski. Your players really fouled up the field. I knew they would eventually." Finstock smirked at them both. Just behind him, another alpha, Theo, watched them quietly. Derek recognized him from the alpha meetings -- his pack was a large one near LA, so he had a big stake in the ongoing murders in Southern California. Many of them even took place in his pup territory. He was someone who said very little, but what he did say was pointed and oftentimes cruel. 

"Rubbing in our loss. Very classy, dude," Stiles rolled his eyes and continued packing like they weren't there.  

"Leave," Derek growled, flashing his eyes. (Stiles wasn't watching, he could get away with it). 

"Stiles," Theo called, his voice soft but impossible to miss. He ignored Derek entirely, his eyes fastened on Stiles. "I don't think we've met." 

"Not formally," Stiles stood up straight and narrowed his eyes at Theo. "Hell of a way to announce yourself." 

"Finstock offered to introduce me." Theo smiled. Cold seeped down Derek's spine, his instincts flaring with warning. "I've heard... so much about you." 

"Leave." Derek stepped forward, no longer bluffing with the threat of violence. He shifted fully, the raw scent of aggression and anger in the air pushing him over the edge. 

Finstock finally seemed to back off, his smile losing its smug quality at Derek's real threat. Theo still refused to look at him, his eyes pinned on Stiles. Derek moved until he was completely blocking Theo's view of his mate. Only then did Theo meet his eyes, like he'd just noticed the alpha fully shifted and growling. Like he hadn't been willfully ignoring him as a show of power. He smiled again, almost politely. It was a thinly veiled baring of teeth.  

"I'll see you both later, I suppose. Probably sooner rather than later." Theo's voice was still soft. Finstock looked confused by Theo's obvious aggression. He retreated first, then Theo sped after him. 

Everything in Derek screamed to follow them. Threatened -- Theo had  _threatened_ Stiles. Derek could hardly believe it. It wasn't unusual for pack feuds to happen -- or for them to start over a sports game -- and sometimes brawls like what what happened between Finstock and Malia could start. But Derek had never seen anything like that. There was nothing friendly about that encounter -- just stone cold anger and the possibility of serious violence. Toward his _mate._

Behind him, he heard Stiles move. He turned to see Stiles looking shaken, his arms wrapped around his chest. 

"Whoah." Stiles sounded a little breathless. "That... surprised me." 

"Surprised?" Derek felt his control unravelling again. " _Surprised?_ Don't you dare downplay this." He leaned on his alpha training to hide his panic, masking it as anger instead. He crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw. "You know you can't go. You must know that." 

"That's what they want," Stiles threw back, his cheeks flushing red as he dropped his stuff on the ground to gesture in the direction of the lycanthropes. "They want me to bail. They want me to give up." 

"You're not giving up." Derek shook his head. "You're just not going. I will present the legislation, and you can prep me before I leave." 

"Derek." Stiles gaped at him. "Fuck. _Derek_." 

"No." Derek shook his head again. He shoved the rest of his stuff in his bag as Stiles stood there stock still. 


	21. The Challenge

Derek all but collapsed into his bed when they got home. It felt too big without Stiles, who continued to ignore him on the bus ride home and then abandoned him to the pack pile as soon as he dumped his stuff off at their house. Tomorrow their normal schedules started again and Derek had to go back to work. He tried not to be too upset by the fact that Stiles was ditching their last night together for the next however many days. 

He didn't succeed. 

Halfway through the night, after restlessly turning in bed and pathetically press his nose into Stiles's pillow, he tore the covers off and set out at a steady run until he reached the lake. He plunged in, the cool water calming his body and quieting his mind, and swam laps under the moon until he stopped buzzing with restless energy. 

He wandered back to his house slowly. His mind was finally quiet, but his body now ached with exhaustion. He stopped at the open doors to the House as he noticed a figure standing unmoving outside their door. 

Oh, fuck no. 

Derek quietly slipped through the House doors and into the Hall. As the figure shifted, it became apparent that the person was likely a woman, with long hair that cut along their profile.

A woman... or a girl.

 _Malia_. Derek watched incredulously as she opened the door to their house and _turned the light on,_ illuminating her features. She definitely could not put stealthy on her resume.

Derek sped over until he was a foot behind her; she needed a good scaring, at this point. She jumped and stumbled back.  

"What are you doing?" Derek growled, not bothering to mask his anger. 

"You weren't home," Malia stuttered.

"That means come back, not go in," Derek clarified, arching an expectant eyebrow.

It was only then that Derek noticed the tear trails down her cheeks, the puffy red rimming her eyes. He kicked himself for being overly aggressive. He was always one to jump to the most terrible conclusion. But, honestly, _people had to stop breaking into his house, damnit_.

"I --" She wiped at the tears on her cheek and sniffed loudly. Derek's heart wrenched and he softened his position. "Stiles --" 

Whatever defenses had come down climbed back up in a second at the mention of his mate.

"Stiles?" Derek snarled. "What about him?" 

"He --" Malia gasped, putting a hand to her throat as her eyes widened with anxiety. Derek realized that his own fears about Stiles -- and everything having to do with Stiles, at the moment -- had warped his alpha scent into a painful toxin. He grudgingly stepped back until Malia looked like she could breathe easily.

"Malia, an explanation. Now."

"Stiles smells like -- he smells familiar, friendly. I can't explain it." Malia cast her eyes down. "I just wanted something of his. To smell. While I was falling asleep." 

Derek took a moment to absorb that fully. 

"Stiles smells like... your family," he surmised slowly. It was the one part of that alarming explanation he could get onboard with. 

"He smells like..." she blushed, "like home, I guess." 

"Malia," Derek repeated the word  _pup_ in his mind over and over until he could unclench his jaw. "I know this is a hard transition for you to make. We haven't spoken about your family in depth, but given how I found you I can understand that there's... unresolved feelings there." Mostly confident that he'd calmed himself enough to smell normal again, Derek approached her and offered a hand to pull her up from the floor. Malia took it hesitantly. He waited until she was standing and looking at him to say the last part. "But you can't ever come into our home like this. _Especially_ not in the middle of the night." 

Malia glued her eyes to the floor. 

"And, I don't think it's a good idea for you to get attached to Stiles's scent." Derek was genuinely perplexed by that. As a mated lycanthrope, Stiles shouldn't be able to create infatuation with anyone else; his body shouldn't produce those hormones anymore. Since it couldn't be infatuation, it could only be what Malia described -- a coincidental similarity. As such, this behavior was odd and extreme for someone without infatuation. "Why don't you head over to the pack pile instead? The pack pheromones should help you sleep too."

"Is... Stiles there?" Malia ducked her head even more.

Derek felt himself go stiff. Stiles often slept in the pack pile when he was gone, but he was home now. If Derek hadn't pissed him off, Stiles would be snuggled in next to him in their bed right now. It didn't feel good to hear another person point out this obvious fact, even innocuously. 

"Yes."

"I mean, he's not here, so I just assumed," she continued quickly, darting a glance up Derek's way. Derek rubbed at his eyes and pushed down again on his exhaustion and irritation and everything else that was definitely not appropriate to take out on this young girl.

"Sit." Derek shooed her in the direction of the living room. Malia hurried over as though the floor were made of hot coal and gingerly took a seat on the couch. Derek sat too because his default was intimidating and literally everyone told him he needed to appear more "calming" to the pups. Sitting at the chair in front of her was probably better than towering over her with his eyes glowing.

"Malia, has anyone explained mates to you yet?"

"No." Malia's eyes widened almost comically. "Oh, Derek, I didn't --"

Derek held a hand up to stop her. Whatever alternative explanation she had, this was still important for her to understand. "Mates are lifelong partners. The human equivalent would be marriage, but lycanthropes take it a step further. My scent, and Stiles's scent, are fused to one another. We cannot feel attraction to anyone else the way that you, an unmated lycanthrope, can. Not through scent, anyway. This is a permanent, biological change." Derek's eyebrows ticked up as he watched Malia turn into a tomato in front of him. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Tears renewed in Malia's eyes. Derek sat back, immediately doubting everything he'd done in the last five minutes and hating himself a little.

"I swear, I'm not... that's not what I'm doing!" Malia pleaded, her eyes wet and shiny. "I just -- I don't really know anyone here. And Stiles was nice to me. Well, sort of. And he smells good. Hayden is fine, and Isaac's really trying, but I just feel --" she drew in big gulps of air, "lost. So lost. And confused. And I just wanted to sleep, but that's impossible now that I can hear the goddamn squirrels _snoring_ , and then I had this crazy idea that if I could smell something relaxing it might help. Scent is so -- it's so much now. It's everything." 

"Did you try the pack pile?" Derek suggested again, gentling his voice as much as he could.

"I didn't want to wake everyone else up because I couldn't... I couldn't stop crying," Malia admitted miserably. Derek remembered when Isaac went through something similar after his first visit with his father. He would wake up screaming in the middle of the night from the nightmares, and the whole town would wake up with him. He refused to pack pile because he was so ashamed of it. He had to sleep on the floor of Derek's parents' bedroom for weeks. 

Derek moved onto the couch with her and scent marked her neck, wiping at her hair and smoothing her tears away. Now that his scent wasn't putting out angry alpha toxins, he succeeded in soothing her, watching with relief as she closed her eyes and stopped sniffling. 

"Wow." Malia inhaled slowly. "And I thought _Stiles_ smelled good..." 

"As your alpha, my scent is designed to calm you," Derek explained patiently. He rubbed his wrist along the other side of her neck and watched her take deep breaths. 

"I know. Alpha Theo did this to me too." 

Derek froze. 

"Theo?" 

She opened her eyes. She looked drowsy now, her lips curving up rather than down. 

"He found me at regionals when everyone else was celebrating. I felt like the pack was still mad at me for messing up our chances, so I went to look around at the other packs. He said I was supposed to be his beta, but then you took me from the shelter before they could come for me."

Derek curled his hand into a fist so Malia wouldn't see it shaking.

"Listen." Derek prayed his voice was still gentle. None of this was Malia's fault, and he'd finally settled her down. "Theo doesn't like Stiles, or me. If he tries to contact you again, don't talk to him. We got permission from Theo's elders to keep you as part of our pack shortly after you came to us. There's no reason for you to speak with him again."

"So I don't have to try to do this all over again with a new pack?" Malia asked miserably. Derek ran a hand over her hair and pulled her to his neck. She nosed at him and relaxed fully against his chest.

"No." Now that Malia couldn't see him, he gave into the anger coursing through his veins and shifted. "I won't let that happen."

 

* * *

 

Sleep was nearly impossible after that.

Derek took Malia to the pack pile and scent marked her until she drifted off to sleep. Stiles woke up and watched the two of them, but he didn't say anything and he didn't follow Derek out when he returned to their home. Derek resisted the urge to beg, but only barely.

So, he ended up staring at his ceiling long into the morning hours, quietly seething and imagining all the ways he was going to destroy Theo. 

In the morning, Boyd, blessed Boyd, said nothing as Derek shut the door to the car too hard and immediately buried his nose in their next case file. He grunted out the overview and relevant details before he passed out in the seat for the rest of the drive.

Boyd smelled like Erica and it reminded Derek of how many nights alone he had to look forward to.

They spent the day at police stations, talking with the police about the pup disappearances to solidify patterns, including the details of this new case. They inherited it from another alpha pair who worked it when it was fresh and handed it off when it was cold -- a boy this time, with a dark complexion and hair cascading in braids around his neck. His eyes haunted Derek as he went through the file time and time again with the police.

They checked in to their hotel late that night and ate quietly in their room. Despite the grim realities of the case, Derek was distracted with his own issues. 

"What have you heard about Alpha Theo, from the Paradise Springs pack? They draw from LA." 

Boyd looked thoughtful, if tired. 

"Nothing." He shook his head and shrugged lightly. "I've heard his name, seen him at regionals a few times. He doesn't have a reputation that I know of. Why?" 

"He told Malia that I took her from him." Derek couldn't suppress the growl that rose to his throat. 

Boyd's eyes narrowed. 

"Their elder council granted permission."

"I remember. They said their pack was growing too large." Derek bit into his sandwich viciously. "They couldn't keep up with the pup calls. The slow response is part of the reason why so many were abducted from that area. They _thanked_ us for getting to her in time." 

"That doesn't add up." Boyd tilted his head to the side quizzically. "Maybe it's a miscommunication within the pack, between the council and Theo." 

"I don't think so." Derek sighed. "He threatened Stiles." 

Boyd sat back, his expression tightening. 

"Things are tense right now. Everyone felt it at regionals." 

"This was about Stiles's human policies, I'm sure of it." Derek shook his head. Boyd looked down, his posture tense. "Malia isn't the reason, she's just a convenient excuse. But he may try to challenge our claim to her in court."

"That's ridiculous." Boyd snorted. "He can't do that." 

"He was in meetings with me all throughout regionals -- he goes for the throat. He can challenge us, he just can't win. It will sour our reputation and drag poor Malia through hell, though." Derek paused, considering their situation. The beta watched him carefully, waiting for his conclusion. 

"When he threatened Stiles, he made it personal." Derek let his anger show because it was Boyd. "Now I need to figure out how to make it personal for him."

Boyd smirked and his eyes flared gold in response. 

"Understood." 

 

* * *

 

It was a long week. 

Derek generally felt capable at his job. Compared to other alpha pairs, his case closure rate was above average. He didn't think he was stupid -- the fact that Stiles mated with him was comfort enough for him in that particular area. Still, he felt like a total and utter loser at the end of that week. 

"Fucking teflon," Derek groaned as he checked the time on Friday. If they didn't leave right then, they'd miss Friday dinner. "Nothing sticks." 

"We'll find something," Boyd muttered. He sounded tired and unconvinced. "Ten alpha pairs are working the same problem. Someone will find something."

" _Weeks_ we've been chasing our own fucking tails. Kids just keep dropping off the map, and we've accomplished  _nothing_. How do they keep finding them before we do? Disappear without a fucking trace, no one sees anything. It's impossible."  

Boyd didn't argue with him, though he looked like he wanted to. Derek wanted to argue with himself -- he wanted to feel like they weren't complete failures, like something they did made a difference. The results begged to differ: nothing. 

They drove. Derek stared hard at the road and tried to focus on what was in front of him while Boyd poured over the veritable pile of cases. Every report filed in the last year of a missing pup in the Southern California area was stacked on the floor of the front seat and heaped in Boyd's lap.

They got back in time for dinner. Derek ate quietly, but the scent of Stiles next to him was what truly refreshed him. He felt thankful for that small blessing, even if Stiles still wasn't talking to him. 

After the run, when he climbed into the treehouse and collapsed onto his back to stare at the sky, he was surprised to hear Stiles's feet hit the ground as he ran up to the foot of the tree. Three leaps and he was climbing onto the platform with Derek, his silver eyes luminous in the moonlight. He looked lithe and strong as he hesitated at the edge of the platform. Derek pushed down his joy at seeing his mate and braced himself --Stiles didn't look happy with him.

"You're still a dick." It was far calmer and quieter than Derek would have expected. "But something's wrong, and unfortunately I still love you."

"Unfortunately?" Derek's heart tugged at Stiles's phrasing. He wasn't sure he could do this right now.

"Unfortunate for me because I'm still pissed and this isn't over." Stiles pointed a warning finger his way. Then, much to Derek's relief, he softened his expression and crawled the rest of the way to Derek. He climbed over Derek and offered his neck. Derek surged into him and pulled him tight, taking what was offered and whatever else Stiles would let him have.

"What happened?" Stiles asked softly. His hands ran over Derek's back, touching him the way he loved, the way he needed right now. Derek just breathed him in for a long time, his throat tight with long unshed tears. With every gulp of his mate's scent, the week's anxiety and tension seeped from his body. 

"We're getting nowhere," Derek finally choked. 

"Ok. Alright," Stiles soothed him, lowering his body until he was molded comfortably against Derek's side. "When was the last time you slept properly?"

Derek scoffed in answer. Stiles's hands tightened on his chest.

"I didn't know, love. I'm sorry," Stiles whispered before kissing his shoulder gently. Derek held on tightly and moved closer, feeling frantic and desperate for the taste of Stiles, the touch of him.

"Are you ok?" Derek asked urgently. He worried all week long. It seemed like he did lately was worry. He pressed every space between them into nothing. "The baby?"

"We're fine. Some morning sickness this week, but that's normal."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You're doing very important things." Stiles nuzzled him. "I can share you a little bit."

"Sometimes I wish I didn't do this."  

"You wish that all the time." Stiles pressed their foreheads together. "I know that. You're wound tighter than... I don't know, what's something that's wound tightly? That's such a strange phrase," Stiles mused to himself. Derek laughed weakly. "Whatever it is that's wound tightly, you're tighter than that." 

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, Sourwolf." An edge crept into Stiles's voice, but his body was still supple and yielding to Derek's touch. "We don't have to be fighting, you know."

Derek stayed quiet. This moment was precious; if he opened his mouth (and that argument up again), they would ruin it. The long, expectant moment went on until it was just comfortable silence again.


	22. The Chocolate Cake

Boyd possessed a deadly combination of access to everything and super stealth. Although his towering appearance initially drew eyes, Boyd's quiet personality and stoic expression allowed him to blend in in plain view, to be forgotten about as a witness to important conversations. Derek had found, over years of working in the field with the lycanthrope, that Boyd could uproot intelligence that Derek would never be able to touch. Boyd was nothing short of magic. 

So, Derek didn't ask how Boyd got the information on Theo. He accepted it with an outstretched hand and a grateful smile. Then he listened as the quiet lycanthrope briefed him. Stiles was out with Deaton working on residency-related things, so they had the house to themselves.

"Born to an alpha mother, inherited the Palm Springs pack when she passed twenty years ago. He had a sister, a beta, who worked cases with him as his partner. She was murdered on the job with him, apparently. He's worked alone since."

Derek thumbed through the crime report on the young woman, Theo's sister Tara, and blanched at the grizzly images. 

"Humans," Derek guessed. It explained Theo's vendetta against Stiles. Derek had to continually check his own dislike of humans and the realities of his job, especially after his parents death. Stiles often acted as an antidote to his worst thoughts and overgeneralizations.   

"Hate crime, yes." Boyd nodded slowly. "There's more: he was investigated, by request of _his own pack_ , for abusing his alpha status. Something regarding his father, a beta who's still alive. Those records are sealed, but If we really needed to, we could try to lean on the father."

"Fuck." Derek leaned back against the couch. "Jackpot."

"He's bluffing with Malia. An alpha that overreached once wouldn't test the courts with something bogus like this. Not unless they want another investigation opened into their conduct." 

"I can't believe -- well I can, given that he's clearly volatile and cruel. Still, to have your own pack bring allegations against you?" Derek shook his head. He couldn't see how something like that could ever heal over. Alphas needed trust to maintain a healthy pack. He had seen alpha-pack relationships strained before and it wasn't pretty. It rarely ended well, either.

"He's not... well liked." Boyd thumbed his lip thoughtfully. "From what I gather, he's tolerated rather than appreciated."

"Well, that makes sense. What a dick." Derek waded through the rest of the information in the file Boyd handed him.  

"You sound like Stiles." Boyd smirked at him.

"Stiles would have something much more colorful to say."

"Are you two..."  Boyd lifted an eyebrow rather than finishing that sentence.

Boyd could read Derek's moods almost as easily as Stiles could. Usually, Boyd didn't bring up even his obvious issues, so they must have been extra obvious this last week.

"We're working through it." Derek shrugged. After a moment, he added, "He's sleeping at home again."

"Good." Boyd looked stern now. "We need to focus, Derek. We can't screw this case up."

"Yeah," Derek agreed, feeling cowed. "You're right. I'll be better, I promise. I'll work it out with him. In fact..." Derek considered the stoic lycanthrope. It was a big ask, given that the International Council was long, arduous, and unpleasant, but there was no one Derek trusted more. "Would you be willing to come along with us to the International Council? I'll need to apply for you to act as a special delegate, but I can't think of a reason they'd deny it. There are meetings that I have to go to alone, and I... Stiles shouldn't be left alone there right now." 

Boyd sat back, his brow furrowing with confusion before it cleared. 

"Of course. You want me to keep an eye out?" 

Derek hesitated before nodding. Boyd would be well within his right to ask why -- Stiles was a full-grown, adult lycanthrope who could take care of himself --  but Stiles wasn't ready to spread the word about his pregnancy yet. Luckily, the beta only nodded again. 

"I'll talk to Erica, but I think she's already heard an earful about this from Stiles this week. She'll understand." 

"Thank you." 

Derek breathed easier immediately. With Boyd there watching Stiles's back, he would feel much better about Stiles attending. Not great, but it was certainly a better option than just the two of them.  

Boyd smiled briefly before standing to leave. They scented each other. Boyd clasped a steadying hand on the back of Derek's neck, a silent show of support. Derek scent marked him in appreciation before the beta left. 

 

* * *

 

Almost as soon as Boyd left, Derek called Theo using the personal number Boyd scavenged for him. Thanks to Stiles and his human-loving policies, they now had reception. 

"Who is this?" Theo answered, sounding suspicious. 

"I spoke to Malia." Derek avoided any preamble. "She told me what you said to her at regionals." 

"... Derek Hale." Theo's tone shifted to smug, like he enjoyed that Derek was calling him like this. "Yes, she's so feisty. I like it. I think I'll take her back"

"I heard that you're familiar with the judicial system." Derek savored revealing that he knew Theo's weakness. The silence that followed told him he'd pressed the right button. "So, I don't think that's going to be a problem."

The continuing silence was vindicating.

"Yeah, I'm calling your bluff, asshole," Derek told him plainly. "Stay away from Stiles or you'll find out just how much I know about you. And what I can do about it." It was a counter bluff, but someone like Theo had more to hide if Derek dug deep enough.

When he was answered with more silence, Derek hung up the phone.

Finally, a win.  

 

* * *

 

He immediately made his way down to the clinic where he found Deaton and Stiles in the examination room alone. They seemed to be chatting over medical samples. They turned to him as one, Deaton looking bemused and Stiles smiling about something. It hurt to watch Stiles's smile disappear when he saw Derek. 

"I need to talk to you." 

Deaton waved him off, so Stiles pulled off his medical gloves and stepped outside with Derek, far enough that they were out of range of Deaton's hearing. 

"I made some... arrangements," Derek breathed out in a rush. He still didn't feel good about this, but he needed Stiles back on his team. Plus, he knew from experience that if he pushed too hard it often backfired with Stiles sneaking off to do what he wanted to anyway. Compromise was their best option in this case. 

"Arrangements?" Stiles asked, crossing his arms and quirking his eyebrow expectantly. 

"If Boyd can come with us..." Derek started. He paused when Stiles rolled his eyes and dropped his defensive posturing. 

"Oh my god, Derek!" Stiles waved his arms at him in what looked like exasperation. "You! You are so predictable! You're slapping a detail on me?" 

"Yes." Derek crossed his own arms in defense. It was a perfectly reasonable solution. 

Stiles considered him for another moment; he looked like he was debating his options. Then he rolled his eyes again, this time with a slight smile. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine. Alright. I'll let Boyd tail me. Then you'll lay off, right?" 

"Stiles--" 

"This is serious, Stiles," Stiles said in a terrible impression of his own voice. 

" _Stiles_ \--" 

"Your safety is very important," Stiles continued his terrible Derek impression, "and you mean so much to me. I need you to take this as seriously as I do." 

"Stop that." But Derek couldn't help but grin. "I sound nothing like that." 

"Oh, yes you do. Truly," Stiles said in his normal voice. "I get it. Really. I know I seem like I don't, but I care about... this." He put his hand to his lower stomach. "I don't want to take chances either, not when this is so new and uncertain. Alright? And I care about this." His hand went from his stomach to Derek's chest. Derek felt all his arguments drop away, suddenly speechless at that tender gesture. Stiles leaned in and kissed him gently, smirking at his surprise. "I know you're an overprotective mother bear, and I also know that's in overdrive right now. It's not a... terrible idea to have some extra manpower with us." 

Derek smiled and looked down at the hand on his chest, covering it with his own. 

"I love you." 

"I know." 

 

* * *

 

Erica was _not_ pleased. 

She was the first one through their door that night, followed closely by Boyd. Isaac, oddly enough, stumbled in after them. Then. Then Malia came tumbling in on his heels, furtively glancing at Derek before very obviously hiding behind Isaac (Isaac looked quite pleased about this). Finally, Scott and Kira wandered in after them, looking confused. 

This could not be good.

"Stiles Halinski," Erica started, to which Stiles immediately corrected, 

"Stilinksi. That's still not happening, Erica. Stop trying to make it happen -- it's not going to happen." Stiles looked much cooler than Derek was sure he looked. When he glanced at Derek, though, some of his bafflement slipped through. 

" _Halinskis._ " Erica arched an expectant eyebrow at both of them. They were just sitting on their couch wondering at the unbelievable number of people in their living room. Erica cocked her hip in a very Erica-like way and tossed her hair over one shoulder. "Spill this instant. What's up with you two?" 

Stiles frowned at Derek. Before the parade of lycanthropes through the door, they had planned to snuggle by the fire reading and then fall asleep naked together. Derek had a bad feeling that that plan was about to get shot to hell. 

"If you're actually planning on stealing Boyd from me for, what, three weeks? Four? Well, I demand an explanation." Erica pointed a steady finger at them. She didn't look mad; actually, she looked like she might be gloating, like she had found a foothold and she was entirely willing to use it to her advantage. From the look of it, Stiles was gearing up to bicker with her in one of their famous snark matches. While Erica shared the title of Stiles's best friend with Scott, Stiles and Erica were the absolute worst two people to get stuck in a room with during an argument, let alone with an audience made up of almost their entire generation of lycanthropes.

Derek put a hand on Stiles's and squeezed to stop the impending bickering. Deflection was an old alpha trick, passed down through generations. 

"Why are you _all_ here? Now? ... At once?" 

Isaac cleared his throat and held up a sheet of paper. 

"I'll go first. Uh, Stiles gave me this bizarre list of food to cook." Isaac squinted at the paper. "Chocolate cake with... pickled onions?" 

"Yes, chop them up and bake them right in." Stiles nodded, looking eager. Isaac's nose wrinkled and Derek swallowed down his own disgust. Apparently, Stiles's pregnancy cravings had started.

"I have an equally weird request list of human food for my next visitation." Scott held up a similar piece of paper that was very obviously covered in Stiles's doctor scrawl. "Where the fuck am I supposed to get peanut butter squid, Stiles? And a sour cream and chips _sundae_? _What_ the _fuck_?" 

"I'm not here for any particular reason. I just had to see this." Kira beamed at them all. 

"Dad's off at some convention," Stiles explained to Derek's hurt expression. "Plus, I used my last break to visit Cora. I haven't been in the human world in ages." 

"You could have asked me," Derek mumbled, his overprotective instincts flaring. "You know I would have gotten them for you." 

"I-- you were being a shit head, remember? I wasn't going to ask you to run errands for me." Stiles laughed and threaded his fingers between Derek's to soothe him. Derek snorted indignantly. He still would have done it.

"You can always ask me for that," Derek insisted, urgently tightening his grip on Stiles's hand. Stiles's expression softened into something fond. 

"Oh my god, stop!" Erica waved her arms to get their attention. Then she fixed them both with a long stare. "There's something going on here and I want to know what." Erica gestured animatedly at Scott. "Are we not your best friends? And Derek, I know you and Boyd have the whole silent love thing going on, and it's all very manly in a 19th century sort of way, but sometimes you need to just use your words. Otherwise, you can't take advantage of Boyd like this." 

"He's not," Boyd insisted, his eyes widening. "Honey." 

Derek had rarely seen Boyd look so panicked, even when they were tracking murderers. Boyd cherished Derek's trust, and part of that trust was derived from the lycanthrope's uncanny sense of when to not ask too many questions. Boyd's mate, however, was the exact opposite.

"Ah!" Erica held up her hand and narrowed her eyes at Boyd. "They _owe_ us this." 

"Yeah, what's going on?" Scott stepped forward, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You two have just been... bizarre lately. We're your friends; you shouldn't keep secrets from friends. Stiles is distracted all the time. Derek keeps... " Scott  wrinkled his nose. "Mooning. It's weird -- like you're dating all over again, except he's the one who's infatuated."  

"We shouldn't keep secrets, huh? Then I guess it's ok to talk about the time at Christmas when you and Kira, on the _clean laundry_ \--" Stiles immediately argued. 

"Ok, so maybe some secrets are ok to keep!" Scott broke in quickly, his voice higher than normal. "You know what? They'll tell us eventually. Let's go." 

"Stiles!" Kira hissed. 

"They're just trying to make us uncomfortable so we'll leave." Erica waved her arms again, her cheeks going red with the pure force of her will. "Hold your ground. Steady. We can figure this out."

"Derek was carrying his bags at regionals," Scott recalled, narrowing his eyes at them. "I remember it because it was so unnecessary. Those things were like twenty pounds and we can benchpress, like, a thousand plus. And then they had some dumb fight and Stiles pushed me out of my own bed."

"Boyd? You've spent the most time with Derek. Anything strange?" 

Boyd looked stone-faced, but Derek could tell it was a facade. The longer Erica stared at him the more the lycanthrope wanted to sink into the ground. 

"I'm not helping you with this," Boyd ground out eventually.

"Oh!" Isaac looked up suddenly from his close scrutiny of Stiles's food list. "The food!"

"Isaac." Derek felt panic rise in his chest. The elder council was supposed to be their first stop for pregnancy news. If it got out like this, well... technically, nothing bad would happen, but the elders would probably take personal offense and then Derek would have to deal with it. 

"Ok." Boyd sensed his panic and his voice turned to iron. He swept Erica off the floor, heaving her up on one shoulder. "This really isn't our business. You're being nosy again."

"What about the food?" Erica called from Boyd's shoulder. He tried to push them through the doorway, but Erica held onto the edges of it for dear life.

"Holy shit, guys," Isaac whispered as he stared at them. He looked unsettled, unsure what to do with all the attention. 

"Isaac, I will literally kill you if you don't spit it out. Stiles has been bullshitting me all week and I'm ready to snap," Erica demanded, her claws out as Boyd tried unsuccessfully to yank her from the room. 

"It's not our business," Boyd seethed.

Nobody seemed to mind him. Malia was peering at Isaac with wide, curious eyes. Scott and Kira had stepped much closer, crowding Isaac against a wall. 

"Actually, he's right," Isaac concluded finally. Derek felt himself relax. "Everyone clear out." 

"Isaaaaaaaaac!" Erica howled. 

"Dude..." Scott protested weakly. 

"If you guys can just be a little patient..." Stiles sounded uncharacteristically soft. He looked down at his hands, avoiding all the eyes on them. "One way or another, we're going to need you." 

Derek pulled the hand that he was holding over onto his lap and shifted closer to Stiles. He didn't like how his mate's scent was laced with worry. Between the two of them, Stiles had been the most level-headed and logical about the very real risks of his early pregnancy and whether the baby would survive in his male body, but Derek got the sense sometimes that he was just better at masking that anxiety. Truthfully, they were likely both equally excitable, nervous messes right now, though they expressed it in very different ways.

Everyone else seemed to sense that the fun was over with -- that this was truly a sensitive topic for them. Scott moved forward and scented Stiles almost apologetically. He offered a small smile and squeezed his knee.

"Just... tell us soon, ok?" Scott prodded him gently.

"I will." Stiles nodded.  

Boyd finally wrenched Erica through the doorway. Isaac left with Scott, Kira, and Malia. 

"Don't let her break you, Isaac!" Stiles called to him as Isaac shut the door. "And... thanks."

"Hey, I'll bake all the weird chocolate cakes you need, dude." 

They exchanged a smile through the crack before the door completely shut. 

"So much for any privacy in this place." Stiles leaned into Derek's shoulder. After another moment he let a long breath go, one Derek didn't realize he was holding. "I just... I don't know if I can handle it. If I... if I lose this kid, I'll already feel... but if everyone else had these high expectations? I just don't want to tell anyone until it's more certain." 

"It'll be ok," Derek assured him, kissing his forehead. He felt oddly calm, maybe to balance out Stiles's own uncertainty. "It will." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's the temperature on humans at this point?


	23. The Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giant update to make up for my sudden dropoff <3\. Thank you for posting comments asking for me to finish! I got distracted by my thesis, but it's submitted for publication now. I've got the rest of this story written now. I'll post another big chapter either tomorrow or the day after that. Then, the final chapter!

Derek and Boyd spent another frustrating week chasing ghosts and cornering police officers in various small towns, not-so-small suburbs, and medium-sized cities all over Southern California. They came back a day early after their contacts canceled on them. Derek was relieved to find his mate waiting for him at the garage, texting him various emojis as they drove up. He practically leaped out of the car to pick Stiles up in a tight embrace. 

"Dude, I had the best week. Isaac finding out was like hitting gold. Guess who became my personal fucking chef?" Stiles whispered to him after Boyd nodded to them both and headed off in the direction of Erica's scent.

"Really." Derek let out an involuntary hum of pleasure at the thought. "He's taking good care of you?"

"The best. Like, weird ass food up the wazoo. It's great."

"I brought you some things." Derek couldn't help puffing his chest out with pride as he unloaded his groceries from the back of the car. Boyd had stared at him while he picked them out, and the cashier had seemed unnecessarily judgmental, but it was all worth it when Stiles's face lit up.

"Ring pops!? You found them?" Stiles gasped in delight as he rifled through the bag. "Bagel bites? I could honestly renew our vows right here and now."

"Let's head home before you orgasm out in the open." Derek looked around surreptitiously, even though he knew no one was within earshot. "Also, those need to be refrigerated."

"Honestly. The best." Stiles grinned at him, sucking on his ring pop as he hugged the bag protectively to his chest and followed Derek down the path to their house. When Derek opened the door to their home, he wrinkled his nose.

"What... is that?"

"Kimchi." Stiles inhaled deeply and beamed at him. "The baby can't get enough of it. She loves it. Watching Isaac try to figure out how to make it was pretty hilarious, too. The smell takes some getting used to, but I think it tastes great, obviously."

Derek froze in place. Stiles happily bustled around the kitchen putting things away, oblivious to Derek's shock.

"She?" Derek found his words.

"Oh." Stiles turned, noticing Derek's reaction finally. "I don't... that's not my medical opinion. Just a wish, I guess?"

Derek breathed out, unsure what he was feeling. "We didn't talk about that."

"I'll love them no matter what!" Stiles clarified quickly. "I just keep thinking about tiny little braids and pleated skirts and, like, doctors that are also princesses. I... may have watched a billion youtube videos of babies this week in my downtime. Girls have the better outfits, so plus one for them. And the hairstyles? I mean. Ugh. There will be a serious learning curve, but I'm totally down for teaching myself how to do crazy braids. And I already have our first Halloween costumes picked out: she's going to be the chameleon from Tangled, and you, of course, will be Rapunzel – because of the eyes – and I'm Flynn."

"Slow week?" Derek tried his best to hide how endearing he found the idea of Stiles marathoning baby videos and picking out Halloween costumes.

"The slowest. One of Scott's sheep gave birth, but that was about it. This tiny, healthy pack doesn't need two doctors. I'm actually officially on-call for the Newcastle pack it's been so slow." Stiles finished unpacking and hopped up on the counter to suck at his ring pop. "I think they're gonna be kind of spazzy if the morning sickness is anything to go by – which it's not, but still. She punches me in the stomach precisely at 10 AM every morning. Hopefully that also means she'll be punctual."

"One trait from you, one from me?"

"I'm quite punctual, you're right." Stiles looked so happy Derek almost didn't want to say anything, just stand there and watch him for a few hours. "I think it hit me this week? I've been trying not to think about it, but I think about it, you know? We're going to be a  _family_." 

"I know," Derek purred, trapping Stiles up on the counter and nuzzling into his shoulder. All those floaty, happy feelings drifting on Stiles's scent lit Derek up too. This conversation stirred Derek's own fantasies of what their little family could be. "I've been thinking about it too."

"I'll just be bothering Scott in the pens, or arguing with Deaton, and randomly I get these... these images. The three of us – or maybe the five of us with my dad and Melissa – all sitting on a couch together, huddled under blankets watching Disney movies. The old ones, like Snow White or Mulan. Or maybe I'm teaching you how to change a diaper and she pees all over you."

"Hey." Derek laughed against his mate's skin, "I know how to change a diaper."

"But, in my fantasy you don't and she pees on you. It's cute."

"Can you get a better fantasy?"

Stiles nuzzled him back, his smile wide and his scent like sunshine. Derek sometimes couldn't figure out his mate's complicated internal processing, and occasionally he wished Stiles came with an instruction manual, but moments like this made Derek grateful that Stiles's moods could shift so quickly and inexplicably.

The worries that pressed Derek from all sides seemed to slide away too, their power gone to the bright happiness of that moment.

 

* * *

 

 

It was the middle of the night and there was no reason he should wake up. He didn't even know why at first, blinking awake to a feeling like he should be, like sleeping wasn't something he needed to be doing right then because other more important things were happening. He stared at the ceiling, working through that feeling, before he realized the sound of Stiles breathing next to him and the steady thump of his mate's heart was accompanied by another, much tinier pitter-patter.

Derek turned on his side quickly, holding his breath and listening deeply, his eyes caught on his mate's peaceful face. Derek felt for Stiles's hand and found it, holding on for what felt like dear life as the world fell around him and everything in him concentrated on that tiny sound.

"Baby," Derek breathed, squeezing Stiles's hand harder. Stiles winced like he was in pain and Derek let up a little, watching Stiles's face scrunch up adorably before he slit his eyes open. "Wake up, love."

"Ngh," Stiles complained, trying to pull his hand from Derek's tight grip. "Sleep."

"I know," Derek agreed softly, the pang of regret for waking his pregnant mate quickly overwhelmed by the wave of excitement that he needed to share with him. "I need you to be awake for me." 

"Ngh," Stiles tried again, but he turned toward Derek this time instead of trying for the other direction. "You ok?"

"Listen," Derek's words shook and he felt his hands get sweaty with inexplicable nerves in the following silence. Stiles's eyebrows came together and his cute bedhead became even messier when he ran his free hand through it in confusion. 

"I -" Stiles started and then abruptly stopped, his eyes widening fully. Derek could make out his overall expression in the dark room, but the nuances were mostly lost. Derek hated that; he wanted to memorize every detail of Stiles's reaction.

"Oh," Stiles whispered, his voice cracking with sleep. He was alert now, no sleep left in his eyes. "Oh!"

"She's going to be ok," Derek whispered urgently, needing Stiles to confirm that immediately. "That's what this means, right?"

"Yeah, the --" Stiles laughed breathlessly. He took another shakier breath before he tried answering again. "Yeah, the odds of miscarriage go way down once we can hear her heartbeat. Wow, that's going to take some getting used to."

Joy surged through Derek and a second later he scented Stiles's own overpowering joy. The emotion on their scents tangled in the air as they pressed closer, hugging tightly to each other. Stiles was crying, and Derek might have been too. He rubbed his mate's back until the shaking stopped and it was just breathless laughter and whispered promises between them.

Derek spent a long while the next morning just lying next to Stiles and listening to the baby's heartbeat. It was music in his ears, rhythmic and not entirely steady yet. When Derek mentioned that, Stiles eventually got medical about it and timed the pulse. He proclaimed cheerfully that she had a perfect heartbeat, not too quick or too fast – exactly in the normal range.

"Shit, Deaton's going to know now," Stiles realized almost as soon as he set Derek's watch down

"Everyone's going to know." Derek sat up in bed. "We need to tell them. This is impossible to keep as a secret now. She's safer this far along, so you feel better, right?"

"I..." Stiles bit his lower lip and Derek beckoned for him to come closer. He scent marked Stiles's neck, recognizing the fear plain in Stiles's expression now. Pregnancy was definitely making Stiles easier to read. "I was just scared."

"I know."

"I'm still scared, but... I think it's just, like, normal nerves now. What-if-we-don't-give-her-enough-love kind of nerves."

"Good." Derek cradled the back of Stiles's head and stroked his thumb over the soft hair there. "Because that's not a question. She has a whole pack to take care of her.  She'll never feel alone."

"Ok." Stiles breathed out, a little shaky. "Let's tell them. I don't think everyone will know exactly what the heartbeat is so they might not catch on, but I'd rather just let the information out on our own terms. I don't want a repeat performance of Erica's ambush."

Derek summoned the council and coerced Stiles out of the house. As they sat down in the Hall to wait for the council to respond, Stiles's hand felt sweaty in Derek's and his pulse thumped in the quiet of the room. Derek stroked a soothing thumb along his clammy skin, wondering about his mate's unnecessary nerves. Stiles said nothing as the council gathered in the Hall, curious eyes on them as they joined the inner circle one by one.

Peter was the last to sit down, his mouth twisted in a strange smile. "I know that sound," he said almost immediately, his eyes lighting with a burst of gold. 

Recognition slowly dawned on the faces of the elders, some sitting forward in their chairs. Maria even shifted over to the seat closest to Stiles and placed her hand on Stiles's stomach with something like shock. 

"Oh!" Her eyes shined with immediate tears. "I wasn't... we didn't expect this," she explained, wiping at her eyes. "I didn't recognize it at first." 

"Congratulations," Peter said, his voice deep and pleased. "You two never stop surprising me."

"Miracles." Maria closed her eyes. "We've been blessed."  

"This is a great blessing." Even Deaton's voice shuddered as he offered them praise. "I can hardly believe it. Never in my lifetime... This has come about very quickly. You may even have the conception capabilities of a human couple." Stiles shifted, his hands squeezing Derek's, still sweaty and clammy. All the elders' eyes glowed with gold now, the air of the circle thickening with mingled emotions. 

"Ok, just don't expect me to deliver a van full of children," Stiles cracked, nervous under all the attention. 

"Of course not. You're free to make your own decisions on the size of your family." Deaton, who had never quite understood Stiles's brand of sarcasm, wiped at his own eyes. Derek wondered briefly if the elders of his mother's time had reacted this way to his own conception.  

"Jeez, I kind of can't wait to tell my dad now. And Melissa." Stiles seemed to read Derek's mind, his mouth teasing into a hesitant smile. "He's going to freak out. Even more crying." 

"Your dad cries a surprising amount." Derek chuckled in agreement. 

"Oh, Stiles." Maria's eyes softened and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "You can't do that." 

Stiles stared at her before shifting his gaze to the faces of the other elders. They had settled from ecstasy to solemnity with just those words, their backs straight in their chairs. Derek's hand tightened on Stiles's in his stillness. 

"What?" Stiles said eventually, his voice distinctly lower than it had been. 

"It's... an old law," Deaton said carefully. 

"Of course it is," Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes skyward. "Every terrible idea is." 

"-- it's for your protection. And the child." 

"I'm telling my father that he's going to be a grandfather." Stiles's voice was iron. 

"You may _tell_  him," Deaton held up a finger, looking tired, "but you cannot leave the territory until the child is born." 

Stiles stared at Deaton. The room seemed to ice over as they stared each other down, mentor and mentee, both testing the limits of the other in the silence that stretched on. Eventually, as Derek knew he would, Stiles asked, "Why?"

"You carry the child of the alpha, who may be the future alpha of this pack." The other elders nodded their agreement. 

"Ok." Stiles said it like, "So?" 

Deaton took a steadying breath.

"We can't move on this. There's no room for negotiation. It's too dangerous." Deaton shook his head, his voice just as soft.

Derek was surprised no one called on him as backup, for either side. He expected Stiles to demand his loyalty, or the council to demand his obedience to the old laws. Maybe both were afraid which side he would pick. More likely, it meant that this was a law so old and so important that Derek's opinion didn't matter and it would be reinforced regardless. After all, the elder council approved all visitation requests, and they could withhold approval for Stiles’s request with or without Derek on board.

"The time will go by quickly. Your normal visiting rights will be returned to you when the child is born," Deaton tried as Stiles's silence stretched on.

Years ago, this would have been an argument that grew, with sharp barbs hurled from both sides. Deaton would have lost some of his patience as Stiles became more acidic until the halls rang with their voices. But now, Stiles stayed silent.

When he rose sharply from his chair and stalked from the room, Derek was still trying to decide which side he should defend. He was somewhat relieved that Stiles made the choice to cut the meeting off. Derek bared his throat briefly to the council and thanked them hurriedly for their words before he followed Stiles out of the room. 

On the one hand, the idea of Stiles safe in pack territory for the duration of his pregnancy was tempting – very tempting. Beyond his protective instincts, though, he recognized that Stiles was right to demand his freedom. He was much more than simply the  _vessel_  of the potential future alpha, as he was being treated. 

"Stiles --" Derek reached for his hand when he finally caught up to him down the path. Stiles let him, but he also didn't look at him, staring resolutely at the ground instead. Derek opted for the most truthful statement he could offer with is conflicting feelings. "I didn't know about this, I'm sorry. I would have warned you."  

Stiles's eyes were live wires, but they flashed dimmer at his apology. 

"They're keeping something from us," Stiles said softly, staring steadily at the ground. "Do you know?"

Derek was taken aback. For Derek, keeping their child safe was reason enough to ask Stiles to stay safely within the pack territory. But the council had demanded it of him and revoked his visitation privileges – which was not asking.

"I don't." He was glad of it. If there was some hidden knowledge the council was using against Stiles, and he had known and kept it from his mate, Stiles would see it as a betrayal.

Stiles nodded once. Derek studied his mate's anger – the high flush on his cheeks, the steady scowl of his mouth – and wondered what else he could say that would comfort him right now.  

"You're happy, though," Stiles finally accused. He looked as frustrated with him as Derek felt with himself.

"I was looking forward to telling your father too," Derek sidestepped the question. "They should have warned us." 

"Give me some space." 

Derek didn't want to let go of Stiles's hand, but he made himself anyway. 

 

* * *

 

 

Derek gave his mate a wide radius for the rest of the day, distracting himself with tending to everyday alpha matters. He double-checked the pack's finances and supplies. He talked with various pack members, checking in on issues that were brought up with him before. He dropped in on Isaac to ask about his progress with Malia, selfishly looking for something to cheer himself up. 

Isaac turned bright red when Derek stepped in the doors of the kitchen. He hurriedly threw a whole bushel of broccoli in a pot and missed the top of the pot with the lid twice before securing it. Then he pulled Derek back out of the kitchen and into the woods by the path. 

"No one knows," he said quickly, glancing back at the kitchen. 

Derek couldn't hide his smile. 

"They do?" Isaac blinked at him.

"I think most people do," Derek admitted truthfully, keeping his voice low to match Isaac's more out of respect than out of concern.

"Oh." Isaac turned redder. "Do you think Malia knows?" 

Derek stifled a laugh. "What do you think?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"How's she doing?" Derek thought back to when he'd found her looking for Stiles at their house. 

"Better. She comes by sometimes," Isaac's face split into a wide smile, "just to talk. I think we're... friends now." 

Derek nodded, his mouth twisting into a smile.

"Nice work."

"She's nice. And funny. And really weird." Then, after a moment of thought, "I kind of like it." 

"I see that." 

Isaac bared his throat and Derek scent marked him. "I'll make something really great for dinner this Friday as a thank you." 

"You always do," Derek praised him. "I'm already grateful to you for taking care of Stiles. He said you've been catering to his every strange demand."

Isaac laughed. "He's almost as weird as Malia right now." 

"We told the council today. This Friday we'll announce it to the pack." 

"That's good." Isaac turned red again. "The rest of the kitchen staff has been asking questions."

Derek was sitting at home by himself, hoping Stiles would calm down enough to go to bed with him soon, when he heard Scott hesitate at the door to their house.

Derek sighed and put his book away before dragging himself up off the couch to answer the door. If Scott was here and Stiles still wasn’t at this time of the night, odds were good that Derek was sleeping alone again.

Scott slumped after peering over Derek’s shoulder. “Stiles isn’t here.”

“No.” Derek squinted at him. “He didn’t send you?”

“I… can’t find him.” Scott backed up one step, avoiding Derek’s eyes. “Are you guys fighting again?”

“Not exactly. What do you mean you can’t find him?”

“He’s not at the clinic, not at the lake, not hiding out in the wine cellar…” Scott took another step back before admitting, “I think he… took off.”

Derek felt the floor sink under him. Usually he could smell Stiles on the air when he was on pack lands, but sitting in his home with Stiles’s scent everywhere made him insensitive to his mate’s location. He pushed past Scott, speeding through the Great Hall and out into the forest air where he took a deep breath. He tasted the air on his tongue, searching for Stiles’s scent. He could still smell it saturated in his clothes from their home, but otherwise the air was empty. He listened deeply, searching the myriad of sounds from his pack for something that was recognizably Stiles-like.

“You’re not fighting?” Scott asked cautiously, having followed him out.

“No. This is something else.” Derek rubbed his eyes as the seriousness of this situation fell over him. Stiles had defied the council, _again_ , and over something Derek didn’t see them forgiving easily. Beyond that, his mate was illegally trespassing in the dangerous human world. While pregnant. “He’s with his father. How long has it been since you last saw him?”

“I think this morning. Come to think of it, I heard a car but I just assumed it was Erica coming back from trading early.”

“Shit.” Derek pushed his own overprotective feelings down and tried to focus on the best strategy out of his mate’s poor decision making. He’d learned over the course of his lifetime never to question the most ancient wisdom of the elder’s – but Stiles had made a career out of defying it. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, but that didn’t mean Derek was any more prepared to deal with this difference in their values. “Don’t say anything to anyone. I’m going to get him.”

“Alright,” Scott agreed. His eyes were still downcast, his chin tilted slightly to the right to bear his throat. Derek realized he must be broadcasting his stress to the beta through his scent and took some calming breaths to get himself under control.

“I’ll be back soon. You did the right thing by telling me.”

“Try telling Stiles that.” Scott sighed. “I have a feeling he’s going to kill me.”

Derek made his way to the garages as quietly as possible, hoping that no one would notice him taking a car this late at night. His job gave him an excuse if needed, but he wasn’t the best liar, especially if an elder caught him.

He crept along through the pack territory at 5 miles an hour until he judged himself far enough to really step on the gas without waking sleeping lycanthropes. His worries rose suddenly and added weight to his foot on the pedal, long-held respect for the elder’s judgment of risk fueling his concern.

As soon as he cleared the forest, however, his eyes caught sight of something that sent ice through his chest.

A pack car he recognized was left, abandoned, on the side of the road.

 

* * *

 

Derek immediately jerked his own car over to the side of the road and sprang out of it. He sped over to the side of the car and inhaled deeply, scanning every visible part of the car, taking in every detail. The door was left hanging open. The seat smelled of Stiles, though it was faint now.

Dread curled through him as he realized this scene had aged for hours.

There were no other visible signs of Stiles. He prowled around the car for up to a fifty foot radius, but there were no other real signs of a struggle.

No other scents.

It felt too familiar – too much like the pup cases, the _unresolved_ pup cases. He shut out that thought immediately as a wave of fear threatened to paralyze him. He needed to act, now and fast.

Instinct and his training kicked in as he sped back to his car and returned to pack territory. He texted the council before he got out of the car. His footsteps seemed too loud in the silent evening, crunching on the pine needles and drying grass. Most lycanthropes were already sleeping in their beds with the lights off, but Boyd was on the path near the garage, his eyes the only light in the dark. Derek felt those eyes watch him approach before drawing down to the ground as he fell in line behind him.

The council was already assembled in the House, although Deaton looked half asleep and most were also wearing sleeping clothes.

Derek felt rather than heard the explanation fall calmly from his lips, watched the faces around him transform into horror and fear. He knew, of course, what this looked like. He knew better than anyone what this looked like.

“Malia.” Derek finished his story and directed his command to his ranking Beta. “Bring her to me.”

Boyd nodded and left immediately.

“Why are you calling in the pup?” Maria asked quietly, her hands twisting nervously in her shawl.

“Theo.” Derek’s voice came out harsh, grating to his own ears. “Theo did this.”

The elders stared at him with wide eyes. Derek had thought through it in a distorted, disjointed sort of way as he drove back to territory. Theo had threatened Stiles. Theo had told Malia that she was his and that Derek had stolen her from him. Ergo, Theo must have taken Stiles in retaliation. It was a stupid plan, given that the punishment for something like this was almost certainly being stripped of his alpha role and even imprisonment. But, Theo was both mean and stupid.

“Derek…” Deaton’s voice was soft and polite, cajoling. “I understand how you must be feeling, but that is a serious accusation. We need proof.”

Therein lay the sticking point: proof. Still, Derek could deal with that issue later.

“I have probable cause.” Derek waived that line of thinking down, his training kicking back in like a wall erecting itself between his emotions and the situation. “This is a missing person’s case. We have to follow every lead before it…” _runs cold._ “We have to follow every lead quickly.”

“What if it’s not?” Maria’s lip trembled. “What if it’s not Theo?”

“It’s Theo.” Derek shook his head. The similarities to the pup cases were just coincidences. How Theo masked his scent at the car Derek didn’t know, but this had to be Theo. It had to be. Why would the pup murderer target his mate? There was no motive. “That’s where the motive is. He threatened Stiles at regionals over Stiles’s human policies, and he’s pissed that we took Malia before he got to her, despite the clear legal precedent of pup safety over pack claim.”

“Why would another alpha go this far to settle a territory dispute?” Peter’s eyes were gold, his face drawn.

“I don’t know.” Derek shook his head. “I don’t care. I care about finding Stiles and getting him back. Now.”

Derek heard Malia’s quick breaths following Boyd’s quiet, hurried steps up the path before they both came through the doors. Malia looked pale, her hair disorder, as she followed quietly behind Boyd.

“Have you been in contact with Theo?”

Malia glanced around, fear sparking in her eyes. Her shoulders caved inwards as if to protect herself from their eyes.

“No.”

Not a lie.

“Did he say anything else to you at regionals?”

“We had a conversation. I don’t know if I remember all of it.”

“Tell me what you do.”

“He asked me how I liked it here. Um, if people were nice to me. I told him I was lonely, but some people were cool. He asked about them.”

“Who?”

“I told him about Isaac, Hayden, and Stiles.”

“Stiles. What did you say about Stiles? What did he want to know?”

“I told him you were mates and I’d just found about that. He asked about… I think he asked about true mates. I told him I didn’t know anything.”

“Anything else about Stiles?” Derek pressed.

“I don’t… really remember. I don’t think so.” Malia shook almost imperceptibly. Boyd was also shaking somewhat, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Derek,” Deaton’s soft voice carried in the huge room. “Calm down.”

“He’s been planning this since then.” Derek crushed the top of an ancient wooden chair in his hands before drawing his hands back into tight fists. His scent pulsed with fury. “I’m going to find him myself.”

Boyd drew the girl behind him and brought his eyes up from the ground.

“Scott, Erica, and Isaac will comb over the car and look for something that ties this definitively to Theo. I’ll call this in to the regional elders to let them know we’re headed to Theo’s pack territory and we need backup to meet us there.”

Derek nodded tightly. Boyd took Malia with him as he left Derek to the elder council.

“I’m leaving.” Derek leveled his gaze at them, daring one of them to challenge his decision. “Take care of everything else. I’m getting my mate back now.”

Peter was the only one who spoke: “Bring him back at whatever cost.” The rest of them met his gaze with hollow expressions.

 

* * *

 

The drive to Paradise Springs was excruciating. Every second of silence was another second for Derek to imagine horrible things – gruesome medleys of his FBI experience combined with every horror movie he’d ever seen (granted, that number was low). He didn’t think Theo would be stupid enough to truly hurt Stiles, but then again, kidnapping him in the first place was stupider than Derek thought any alpha could be. More than likely this was just Theo taunting him and showing him he had no problem threatening the people Derek loved. He wouldn’t really hurt Stiles the way that Derek feared if he wanted to keep his pack and his standing as alpha.

But Stiles wasn’t just himself, and he was much more fragile pregnant than Theo might expect from a typical male lycanthrope. He could push too far, even accidentally. He could…

And then he was back to horror film replays in his brain, so he started the process of talking himself down. His entire body hummed with pent-up adrenaline as he barreled down the highway.  

He felt his phone buzzing and pulled it out to see a pack number – Scott. He hesitated before answering, but the beta had been tasked with finding proof of Theo’s involvement in Stiles’s disappearance.

“Where are you?”

“Driving to Paradise Springs.” Derek almost didn’t answer. It was without a doubt the most unnecessary question the beta had ever asked. What else would he be doing?

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Derek snapped.

“I found something in Stiles’s notes while we were searching for clues. I could barely read it because he’s transformed into a real doctor with real doctor handwriting lately—“

“Scott.”

“It’s my old girlfriend, Allison.” Scott breathed out quickly, like he’d been holding that information in for too long. “I can’t believe he remembered this. The three of us used to be really close back in high school, back before we presented. Stiles wrote her name down over and over, but he crossed out her last name. When I saw it, I remembered that she told us her last name, Thomas, was new, and that her family had changed it before she was born because it connected them to some bad people. She said it used to be the French word for silver: Argent.”

Derek almost stopped the car.

“Stiles has been talking about wanting to help you with your case a lot lately, and he said you suspected the Argents were involved. Maybe he called her or something? Maybe he was curious, you know how he is –“

“Scott. No. Stop.” Derek closed his eyes briefly, his world spinning. He leaned against the steering wheel, feeling suddenly weak. “Please stop.”

“I’m going to Beacon Hills right now. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac are coming with me. We’ll ask Allison if she knows anything, or if Stiles contacted her recently. She’s… she’s a good person, Derek, I know that much. But her family… I’m not sure.”

Derek pulled the car over to the side of the road. Argents. _Fucking Argents_. Theo was a mean little beast, but Argents were true monsters. If Stiles was… if Stiles had angered them somehow, made himself a target, while Derek was busy with this pissing contest with Theo…

Derek checked his phone’s GPS and breathed a small sigh of relief – he was already driving in the direction of Beacon Hills. It was only a twenty-minute detour from his route to Theo’s pack territory. He sent Nella the name Scott had given him, Allison Thomas, and received a current address back within minutes.

He set his new path and willed his humming mind into silence; all that mattered was finding Stiles as fast as possible. He’d deal with actual emotions later.

 

* * *

 

 

Beacon Hills was familiar to Derek now. He came there for holidays with Stiles, so he knew Stiles’s favorite places to eat and visit. He knew it well enough that Allison Thomas’s house wasn’t difficult to find.

Derek sped up the steps of her house, taking in the manicured lawn and extraordinarily normal-looking everything. If the Argents were hiding here, they were hiding in plain sight. And if they were hiding here, it was incredibly stupid of him to confront them alone.

Confused and sleepy eyes peered out through the window in the door moments after Derek rang the doorbell. He managed to harness his immediate hostility toward the girl who carefully opened the door, looking suspicious of him. She seemed about the same age as Scott and Stiles so Derek took a guess.

“Allison?”

“Do I know you?”

“I’m with the FBI.” Derek pulled out his badge, which he’d thankfully had enough brainpower to grab before storming out to confront Theo. He figured he should have it in case he needed to play the badge to gain entry into parts of the pack territory. “Please step outside so we can speak briefly.”

Allison squinted at his badge before pulling her camisole tighter around her body. She deliberated for a moment, still suspicious, before stepping outside and closing the door behind her.

“This couldn’t wait until morning? Why are you wearing _sunglasses_ at night?”

“Do you remember Stiles Stilinski?” Derek asked, his patience long gone.

Allison’s expression shifted from caution to surprise. She dropped her defensive posturing – arms crossed and shoulders hunched.

“Stiles? From high school? The one who…”

“Have you been in contact with him? Has he called?”

“Is he ok?” Allison asked first, her eyes filled with concern. Relief washed through him at her genuine response – he’d witnessed people try to lie with their bodies and it didn’t look like that.

“He’s missing. It may be connected to your family’s Argent roots.”

“Argent.” Allison’s face twisted with surprise again. “We’re… we don’t talk to them. I don’t.”

“Do you know anything that could help me?” Derek tried. “You aren’t in contact with them at all?”

“Well, my mother still is, sometimes… she says they’re still family, whatever their crimes. I hear about my grandpa from time to time. Apparently my aunt Kate has been through town recently, but I didn’t see her.”

Everything in Derek seized up at that name. He remembered the scent left behind in the ally where Laura had disappeared. Boyd reassured him he was imagining it, but he’d never quite let go of his fears. Fears that Allison now confirmed, oblivious to the effect her words had on him.

“…Kate?”

“Kate. Yeah. I’ve never met her.” Allison shrugged like they were talking about the weather rather than mass murdering relatives. “Didn’t really want to. I’ve heard enough about her to know that much.”

“What have you heard?” Derek heard himself ask, completely on autopilot.

“She still hunts lycanthropes,” Allison said with disgust. “I told my mom to report her if she sees her, but my mom insists that she doesn’t meet her. She says she only calls in sometimes. Seems unlikely to me that she would pass through town and not meet up with her if they’re still talking.”

Derek repeated his objective in his head like it was a lifeline: find Stiles find Stiles find Stiles.

“Does your family own any other property here? Is there anywhere remote that you visit with your family?”

“Yeah… we have an old family home, near the preserve. It burned down years ago, back when I was a kid, so we don’t go there anymore. My dad keeps saying we should use what’s left of the insurance money to rebuild it, but we haven’t yet.”

“Give me the address.”

Derek felt himself go through the motions like he was watching someone else in his own body: typing the address, texting it to Boyd, then thanking Allison and turning toward his car.

“Hey!” she called after him. Derek stopped, but he didn’t turn around, didn’t think he could look at her again, this naïve human. “I’m really sorry if anything happened to Stiles because of her. Please, let me know if you find him.”

Derek got in the car and left.


	24. The Lab

The burnt-down house in the preserve looked exactly like one of the worst-case scenarios Derek had been trying to talk himself out of while he was driving. Complete with a front door that was half hanging off its hinges, Derek felt assured that the moment he stepped into it the whole house would fall down on him.

Stiles’s scent was just barely perceptible. Derek was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was actually _here_ , that he’d found him. That shithead Theo wasn’t responsible for kidnapping Stiles. That Kate, the person who destroyed his family in one night before, now had the ability to destroy it again.

Derek wasn’t going to let it happen this time, though. He was going to be faster, stronger, smarter than her. And this time, he was going to make _damn sure_ she was _dead_.

The issue was this: last time he checked, Kate was a lycanthrope. He didn’t know how she’d survived so long away from a pack – maybe she’d found an illegal pack of similarly self-hating extremists to exchange scents with so her mind wouldn’t wither away. Regardless of her mental deterioration with or without a pack, she had lycanthrope senses, so trying to sneak up on her was impossible.

She had also been, according to her niece, hunting lycanthropes for years. Derek figured this meant that she’d honed her strategies to use another lycanthrope’s senses against them and gain the advantage in a fight. That would mean that his best tactic was to be unpredictable.

A lycanthrope hunting other lycanthropes. Derek had thought he’d seen it all, but the Argents had managed to disfigure yet one more of his expectations: that lycanthropes, at least, would take care of each other.

On the positive side, Derek was an alpha. Trying to sneak up on him was also impossible. Physically speaking, he should have the advantage. If she had human guns she might gain that advantage back, but it would still be very difficult to kill him.

Derek turned his phone to silent and repeated his mantra again before he started his search: find Stiles fine Stiles find Stiles.

Walking into the crumbling house felt surreal, but his mate’s scent called to him, beyond reason. To his frustration, the farther he ventured into the house, the weaker his mate’s scent became, until he concluded that nothing of Stiles’s was actually inside the house. Eventually, he followed it back outside and to a terrifying cellar door.

Derek barely held back a curse as he wrenched the door open. Someone had locked it from the inside, but Derek was pissed and his mate was missing. The chain fell down the steps, clattering loudly. Stiles’s scent bloomed up like a cloud from the hole in the ground, and Derek didn’t think, he descended immediately into the darkness.

“Derek?” A shout carried through the dark before his eyes adjusted and he saw his mate. His mate in a _cell._

He sped over to him immediately, rattling the cell bars. Stiles was chained to the wall on the other side of the cell, but just the sight of him with all four limbs loosened his insides considerably. He breathed in the scent of Stiles for what felt like the longest moment in his life. He catalogued every emotion he could count in that scent: fear, happiness, irritation, with an edge of panic.

“God, it’s good to see you,” Stiles breathed. His hair was a mess, but otherwise he looked unharmed. There was no blood in the air, to Derek’s bone-deep relief. The remnants of chloroform tinged the air, but otherwise Derek couldn’t smell any other drugs on his mate.

When Derek listened closely, he heard two heartbeats. Thank god.

Wait, three.

“Psycho bitch is in the corner over there,” Stiles gestured as Derek shifted to keep the third heartbeat in his line of sight. “She thinks she’s being sneaky.”

Seeing Kate was a punch to the gut, wrenching him back so many years ago to that moment when he realized his parents were dead. The ash in his mouth. The tears burning his eyes. That hopeless, nightmare feeling like nothing would ever be good again.

The first thing he noticed was the near lack of a scent. Her scent was barely there, a wisp in the air that escaped him if he didn’t concentrate on it – even less fragrant than a human. What he could smell also wasn’t like any other lycanthrope he’d ever met. It seemed broken, somehow, and incorrect. Derek rolled it over his tongue with distaste, trying to pinpoint where it was wrong, what had happened to make it this way. Was it the years of isolation? Could she truly have made it this long completely cut off from any pack? Had it changed her on such a fundamental level that even her scent was disfigured?

It disoriented him for a moment, so used to being able to feel out a lycanthrope through their taste, that he struggled to tap into his other senses – sight and sound and touch.

Kate’s eyes flashed like a demon in the dark, a strange purple color that Derek had never seen in a lycanthrope before. She looked like she hadn’t showered in days. She was wiry and muscled, despite her dirty and disheveled appearance, and Derek didn’t doubt that she could put up a fight when it came to it.

“Alpha,” she whispered it around long canines, shifted for a fight.

“She’s sick,” Stiles said quietly. “You can take her down, but she has a gun.”

Of fucking course she would use _human_ weapons. It was hard to kill him with a gun, but it would sure as hell hurt.

“How?” Derek wondered. Boyd had assured him she was dead, and he trusted Boyd with his life.

“You think just because I hate what I am that I’d kill myself? You wished it was true so much that you convinced yourself.” Kate’s voice slithered out, scraping her throat along the way. “I have work to do. Have to make sure your kind is exterminated.”

“Isn’t she pleasant?” Stiles drawled. His voice was almost _bored_. The familiar sound of Stiles’s snark, even in this situation, settled Derek somewhat, centered him. “I’ve had to listen to this shit for hours. Why didn’t you come sooner?”

“You snuck out,” Derek reminded him tersely. “Very sneakily.”

“Whoops.” Stiles’s shrug rattled the chains on his arms. Even chained to a wall, he looked far from apologetic.

Kate didn’t move, just stood there watching them with unblinking eyes. A chill went through Derek at just how broken and wrong she felt with her scent nearly gone. It was like looking at a human with a lycanthrope’s face. Derek got the sense that she was waiting to see what his move would be. Derek knew better than to attack her outright.

“I’ve gotten bits and pieces of her stupid origin story in the last few excruciating hours.” Stiles slumped against the wall he was chained to and glared at Kate. “Lycanthropes are the scum of the earth, blah blah, lots of self-loathing – typical extremist stuff. She’s pretty incoherent and she uses a lot of dark metaphors but I managed to piece it together. After she ran from our pack, she hooked up with this group that calls themselves the ‘Dread Doctors’. They were the ones conducting those synthetic werewolf tests for the Argents, the ones that you thought I was a part of when I first came to the pack. She begged them to change her back to human. They’ve been doing experiments on her for the last few years until they finally gave up—“ Kate started growling at that, a low sound that echoed in the dingy cellar—“a few months ago and decided to just use her as their retriever. She still has the enhanced strength, speed, and sight, but she doesn’t leave a scent trail, so she’s the perfect lycanthrope criminal. The only problem is that the experiments left her so messed up that she can’t get past the barriers set up to keep humans out of pack territory. So, she’s the one who’s been taking the pups and bringing them back to the dread doctors’ lab. It makes sense that they would target them, in a disgusting kind of way – the change happens slowly over the course of the first few months, so it could theoretically be easier to reverse in new lycanthropes.”

“We will find a cure,” Kate hissed, her eyes flashing. “We will cure the world of you.”

“You’re a giant lab rat,” Stiles growled back. “You’ll never be human again.”

“I have a higher purpose than myself!” Kate snarled, her raspy voice breaking as it rose. Derek had a feeling she barely used it, probably isolating herself completely from others.

“You _had_ a higher purpose.” Stiles lifted his shoulders and smirked. “Then you kidnapped an alpha’s mate. Big fuckin’ mistake.”

“ _Last_ mistake,” Derek agreed with him, his claws itching as he prepared himself to fight.

Kate crouched too, her growl shifting into a hiss before she suddenly stopped and cocked her head to the side. Derek heard it too – a car coming up the road.

“I invited some friends along,” Derek couldn’t help but feel smug.

“I don’t have to kill them,” Kate’s eyes flashed. “I just have to kill you and they’ll all die.”

  
“What?” Stiles sounded small.

“It’s just nonsense,” Derek reminded him. “Delusions.”

“I’ve been piecing together truths out of her delusions all night. What do you mean, Kate?” Stiles pressed. Derek was used to how lycanthropes looked shifted, but she somehow managed to make the long canines and the extra hair look feral rather than familiar.

“We figured it out. Just need to get the formula right so we can get inside. Kill the roots and the tree will wither.”

“Try again – what?” Stiles huffed impatiently. “This time with English, please.”

“She’s insane.” Derek was ready for the talking to end and the fighting to start. “Lycanthropes can’t survive in isolation, and she hates other lycanthropes.”

“What do you mean if you kill Derek, they’ll all die?” Stiles pressed on, ignoring him.

“Alpha’s are heads. Betas are legs. Take off the head, there go the legs.” She was staring at Stiles now with her terrible, unblinking eyes.

“Who told you that, Kate? Where did you learn that from?” Stiles asked.

A chill went through Derek as the car parked above them and a familiar scent whispered through the air – not Boyd, or Scott, or Erica, or Isaac.

Theo.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles smelled it a few seconds later, his eyes going wide as he tugged against his chains and strained toward Derek.

“Ok. Not Boyd.” His panic sparked Derek’s own feelings of panic.

“No,” Derek admitted. He hadn’t considered that his two worst enemies could be working together. Suddenly their situation looked much more grim.

He’d been so focused on Stiles and Kate that everything else had bled into the background. Now, he took in his surroundings in detail, looking for anything that could give them an advantage, given that he was up against an alpha _and_ an insane, murderous, test-tube omega. With a gun.

What looked like old scientific equipment was scattered through the cellar, some half-covered by sheets, some piled up next to each other. Machinery that Derek didn’t recognize but was likely used for medical purposes separated him from Kate in her dark corner. He didn’t see the gun Stiles was talking about, which probably meant that Kate had it hidden on her. There were plenty of things to hide behind, but whether they would hold up under gunfire was another question. When Theo came down the stairs he would block his exit, and Kate was in a position to distract him from Theo if Theo charged him. There was another door to his right, partly hidden behind more machinery, and three empty cells beside Stiles’s cell. It occurred to Derek that this could be where they held and experimented on the pups.

Theo descended the stairs slowly, taking in their situation with obvious pleasure. Once he reached the bottom step he seemed to notice Kate in the corner and stopped short.

“What… is that?” he asked, his eyes combing over her too. “Did you escape from the pens?”

“You two don’t know each other?” Stiles surmised slowly.

“This is not your friend?” Kate asked them, still crouched low and defensive.

“He’s not yours?” Stiles clarified again.

“He’s a werewolf,” Kate spat, like that was answer enough. “An alpha.”

“Yes,” Theo looked between them, confusion in his eyes too. “And what are you?”

“She’s the monster kidnapping the pups.” Stiles glared at him. “You want to explain what you’re doing in her lair?”

“Interesting. She doesn’t have a smell.” Theo looked her over again, appraising. “That’s a new side-effect.”

“She’s an Argent,” Derek pointed out, putting together the pieces. Theo wasn’t surprised that Kate had been kidnapping pups, so he was probably the one who gave up their location. He had access to the secure system that alerted the packs when new lycanthropes were discovered. Until that moment, Derek had never even considered that another alpha could be monstrous enough play a part in the kidnapping of pups. The depth of his betrayal could by summed up by this: “If you’re here, then you’re working with the Argents.”

“What?” Theo looked furious at that accusation, to Derek’s minute surprise. “I would never work with an Argent.”

“Ok,” Stiles sounded exasperated, “then how did you know where to find us?”

“The Dread Doctors told me they’d secured you.”

“Ah. Dread Doctors. There we go.” Stiles sighed. “So, you two have mutual friends. What am I, a present to you for helping give up the pups? A little revenge on the side of serial murder?”

“You are a crucial part of our research. My personal feelings about the matter are irrelevant,” Theo muttered, his eyes still locked on Kate. “Her, on the other hand, I won’t stand for – no Argents can know about this place, and they certainly can’t leave this lab alive.”

Derek watched as Theo shifted, his eyes glowing red, and snarled at Kate. Kate snarled back in response. The moment Derek saw her raise her arm, he ducked behind a piece of machinery that he prayed was sturdy.

Gunshots preceded Theo’s scream of pain. Then the scent of blood bloomed in the air. Derek looked around quickly for something to push in front of Stiles and shield him from Kate’s view, in case she decided to widen her fire. He kicked a bulky piece of machinery and it skidded over the concrete and into Stiles’s cell bars with a loud clang. His aim wasn’t perfect, but it seemed tall enough to shield Stiles’s head and torso, so it would do for now.

A gun-waving Argent within shooting distance of his mate, however, was not something he could tolerate for any amount of time. He darted behind another piece of equipment, this one closer to Kate, and could have sworn he felt the bullets hit the ground right behind him.

“You really are an Argent. Only humans hide behind their guns,” Theo yelled, sounding pained. He had taken shelter too, his voice coming from behind another piece of equipment closer to Kate. Kate had her gun trained on it and was edging to the side for a better shot.

As Derek watched, Theo burst out from behind the piece of equipment. Kate fired immediately and Derek heard the bullets connect with the blunt sound of flesh. Still, Theo ran fast enough to reach her. Within a second, it was down to hand-to-hand between the two of them, the gun skidding across the floor and under some equipment.

Even riddled with bullet holes, Theo was the stronger and better trained of the two. He managed to swipe his claws close enough to her neck that blood sprayed out. Kate staggered back, a hand to her throat, and Theo lunged again, this time wrapping both arms around her neck and pivoting behind her. She clawed at his arms unsuccessfully until he snapped her head to the side. The sound of her neck breaking was at once reassuring and sickening to Derek’s ears.

“That’s how real lycanthropes kill,” Theo panted, letting the body slip from his arms. Blood was pouring from his many gunshot wounds, thickening the air with the smell of it. He took an unsteady step back, grabbing ahold of some bulky equipment to keep himself on his feet.

Derek knew Theo would heal quickly, so he acted fast and sped out from behind his cover. Temporarily weakened from his wounds, Derek managed to power through Theo's defensive moves in just a few counterattacks and secure his own grip on the lycanthrope. From there, he tackled him to the ground and pinned his arms behind his back, pressing a boot to the back of his neck. He pushed on it a little (or maybe a lot) just for the pleasure of hearing Theo choke.

“Keys are in Kate’s pocket, when you get a chance,” Stiles called to him. He was pulling eagerly against his chains and Derek could catch relief on his scent even through the overpowering scent of Theo’s blood. “No hurry or anything. Not like I’ve been chained to a wall for hours in a creepy dungeon with the lycanthrope equivalent of Cujo.”

Derek dragged Theo over to the cell next to Stiles and threw him in, locking the cell from the outside with a bar. While Theo was struggling to get to his knees, Derek sped back to Kate, rummaged through her pockets, and found the key to Stiles’s handcuffs.

He managed to hold himself back from Stiles just long enough to unlock him from the cuffs. As soon as Stiles was free, Derek gathered his mate up in his arms and swore to himself that he was never letting go; they’d just have to go about their lives in this tight embrace from now on.

“I know, I know.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his back, his voice soothing. “I’m safe. You’ve got me. I’m right here.”

All those feelings of fear and panic that Derek had pushed down in order to find Stiles as fast as possible came roaring to the surface. He buried his nose in Stiles’s neck and breathed deeply, checking over every piece of Stiles with his hands just to make sure his nose hadn’t lied to him and he was truly unharmed.

“Never do that again,” Derek whispered.

“Doesn’t seem to end well when I do, does it?”

Derek drew him in tighter. Stiles tensed and patted at his arm.

“Ok, squishing the babies now. A little air, please.”

Derek loosened his grip just a little. At the reminder of the baby, Derek tuned in carefully to the sound of its heartbeat and the underlying scent of it in Stiles’s own scent.

“She’s unharmed?”

“They’re ok.” Derek heard the smile in his voice. He seemed far too relaxed for someone who was held hostage in a cellar-turned-lab for hours.

“Her heartbeat is too fast,” Derek realized with a jolt. It was much faster than Stiles’s to begin with, almost like a bird’s heartbeat, but now it was a gallop. It seemed almost double the pace it was before. “We need to get you to Deaton right now.”

“No, it’s—“ Stiles squeezed his arms firmly to pull Derek back from his panic and shifted in his arms until he had Derek’s attention. He was smiling, relieved, and Derek didn’t understand _why._ “It’s not too fast. It’s two heartbeats – two babies.”

“…Two?”

“Yeah.” Stiles beamed at him. “Twins, dude. I heard the second heartbeat start earlier today. I heard it and I just… I just really felt like I needed to tell my dad. I know I should have told you first, but I knew you were going to get even more overprotective, and who knows what the council would have done, and I… I just wanted to tell my dad in person. It was supposed to be a quick trip, I swear, until that bitch played dead in the road and fooled me out of my car.”

“Twins?” Derek repeated, feeling over Stiles’s stomach like touching him might somehow help explain this. Suddenly everything else didn’t seem to matter much. “It’s really twins?”

“Crazy, right?” Stiles squinted at him. “Well, the good kind of crazy, not like Cujo over there. Also, honey, I’m a little uncomfortable doing this with psycho #2 in the cell right behind us, so maybe we can move this up to the surface or, uh, knock him out or something?”

Derek contemplated all the things he wanted to do to Theo. Theo seemed to have lost his will to try to stand and decided to just wheeze in pain on the ground.

“He won’t bleed out if we leave him?” Derek asked reluctantly. He didn’t much care personally, but they needed him for information.

“I’ve never heard of a lycanthrope dying from blood loss. We heal too quickly.” Stiles shook his head. “I hope they don’t waste good anesthesia to dig those bullets out, though. He deserves the pain.”

“I’m trying to make our life better,” Theo growled, rolling over to face them. Sweat beaded on his brow and agony contorted his features. “Your human-loving mate may not understand, but _you_ , Derek – you should know better. The Argents are just one example. Humans will always try to exterminate us if we don’t exterminate them first.”

Derek pulled his mate closer and steered them out of the cell. Stiles was right – they didn’t need to be around Theo. They could wait for backup upstairs and let him sit down here in his own blood and misery.

Stiles, ever curious, dug his heels in and turned back to him.

“What are you trying to do? What do you need the pups for? Why didn’t you recognized Kate?”

“I promise to grill him thoroughly later, Stiles. Come on.”

Theo glared at Stiles and Stiles glared back and Derek tugged uselessly on his mate’s hand.

“You won’t tell me?” Stiles banged his hand against the cell bars. The sound reverberated off the walls in the enclosed space. “I’ll just figure it out myself. Come on, Sourwolf.”

Derek watched helplessly as Stiles pushed aside machinery to get to the mystery door next to the cells. Derek opted not to argue with him and follow him in to make sure he stayed safe. He couldn’t hear any other living things down in the cellar with them, so a quick look at the rest of the makeshift lab probably wouldn’t kill them.

The door led into a smaller room filled with cabinets, two desks, and a white board. Chemistry and medical books were scattered along an old bookcase on one side of the room.

“Fuck yes. Files.” Stiles rummaged around a stack of files on the desk. “Here’s a file marked ‘Laura’.”

“Give that to me,” Derek reached out for it. “We need to call this in, but I don’t have reception down here,” Derek muttered, tucking his phone away and opening up the file. He steeled himself for the worst, but there were no pictures and the descriptions were mostly gibberish to him.

“Does this make any sense to you?” Derek asked his mate. Stiles mouthed words to himself as he read intently from another file.

“It’s… hold on.” Stiles picked up another file, handing the another one to him. “Oh shit, here’s mine. It’s mostly blank, but they were ready for me. This is so fucking creepy.”

“What does it say?” Derek crowded up behind him, his hands landing nervously on his mate’s hips at the reminder that he was just kidnapped by people who intended to experiment on him.

“Something about fertility… and it looks like they wanted to figure out how you induced the change in me as a true mate. Ok, here’s a chart – the ‘increased fertility’ is marked as ‘improbable’, but the ‘induced change’ is marked as ‘confirmed’.” Stiles frowned. “I’m equal parts creeped-out and intrigued.”

“Wait…” Derek looked at the chart in Stiles’s hands and opened Laura’s file back up to search for the same chart. “Here ‘reversed change’ is marked ‘failed’.”

Stiles stared at the file and took it from Derek’s hands. He skimmed over the previous documents, mouthing words to himself.

“These bastards.” He glared at the paper. “They were trying to do both – reverse the change and induce it. And I guess fuck around with fertility, too, maybe just for fun.”

“They’re contractors,” Derek realized. “They must have been hired by both Theo, or whoever Theo’s connected to, and the Argents. The only side they’re on is their own. They just used both of them to find and recover test subjects – Theo gave them the locations and Kate kidnapped the pups. As long as they didn’t know about each other, it worked.”

Stiles shook his head. “This is a new level of moral terribleness. Middlemen who don’t care which extremist they work for as long as they get paid?”

“They were probably going to betray both if they ever figured one of these things out. Control over the change is something many powerful groups and governments would pay millions, maybe billions, to have. And lycanthrope governments alone would pay millions for any research that helped with lycanthrope fertility.”

“That’s…” Stiles swallowed and set the file on the desk. “Terrifying. Shit. I’m just glad they never realized I was pregnant. Kate was too messed up to recognize it.”

“You got your answer.” Derek sighed and took his mate’s hand again. “Now let’s go.”

“Alright,” Stiles wasn’t looking at him, though. He was staring at another file on the desk. “Yeah.”

“Stiles?”

Stiles picked up the file and tucked it under his arm before Derek could see the name. Honestly, he was too emotionally exhausted to care. Sure, it was a crime scene and Stiles was technically stealing evidence, but Derek was willing to focus on the fact that his mate agreed to get out of this horrid den and go back up to cell service.

 

* * *

  

Being “rescued” by a car full of werewolves was more eventful than Derek anticipated. They nearly crushed Stiles when they saw him – which, even though Derek had done the same thing, looked a lot scarier from a third-person point of view – and then after Derek managed to pry them off of his mate, Erica realized she could hear both babies’ heartbeats and set off another wave of crushing hugs.

Derek expected the tears, and even the complaints (from Erica and Scott) about not telling them sooner, but Boyd took him completely by surprise. The lycanthrope welled up and smashed both Derek and Stiles into a tight embrace. Then he muttered a shaky “congratulations” before he turned away to wipe at his eyes. Erica jumped on his back and kissed his cheek before urging them all into yet another giant, uncomfortable group hug with Stiles in the middle. Even Isaac was crying.

“You already knew about this,” Derek pointed out quietly to the beta.

“I know,” Isaac said defensively. “It’s just. _Boyd’s_ crying.”

“He is.” Derek laughed, earning himself a weak punch from Boyd and a harder punch from Erica.

“I can’t believe we sleuthed you out!” Scott exclaimed, grabbing Stiles by the shoulders. “I totally did it! I was the one who found your Allison scribbles! Derek was going to Theo’s pack territory, but I tipped him off that it might be the Argents!”

“And who taught you to snoop around where you shouldn’t?” Stiles asked him with a proud smile.

“I think that was you.” Scott beamed.

“Damn right.”

They hugged for a long time while Erica wiped at Boyd’s eyes with her fingertips and Isaac covertly blew his nose on the ends of his shirt.

Their presence and excitement eased some of the worst feelings left over from the night, and as they all settled in to wait for the investigative team to come Derek felt much more secure and calm. Once the investigative team arrived, the procedure was all too familiar to Derek. Although, it was a little strange that he was a witness, or in this case a “victim”, rather than an investigator. Still, the familiarity of the process sped the night along.

While the adrenaline kept them awake, Derek was more than ready to return home when it was over. Unfortunately, Stiles got behind the wheel of the car. If Derek had learned anything tonight it was that Stiles was going to do what Stiles was going to do.

“But Boyd cried,” Derek pointed out as they pulled up next to Stiles’s old house. He wasn’t just physically tired – he was emotionally exhausted, too. “Do you really need more tears tonight?”

“You know, this is actually better. Now we get to do it together.” Stiles kissed him sweetly before urging him to open his own door. Derek yawned and slowly made his way out of the car.

John looked about how Derek expected at three in the morning – tired and angry as hell. When he recognized his son, most of that melted away.

“Stiles?” John squinted at him in the dark. “I… what? Are you ok? What are you doing here?”

“We’re having babies!” Stiles quiet-yelled, throwing his arms up and beaming.

John looked at Derek, bewildered. Derek shrugged tiredly, a smile tugging reluctantly at his mouth. Then John looked back at Stiles’s expectant grin.

“You need to tell me this… right now?”

“Can we get past what time it is?” Stiles frowned. “We’re having twins, dad! Twins!”

John leaned against the side of the door, glancing at Derek again before focusing on his son.

“ _You’re_ … pregnant?”

“Yes, in my ass uterus,” Stiles clarified unnecessarily. Derek needed a door to lean against too. “We’ve been over this multiple times, dad. Well, now that I’ve been through medical school I know it’s more in my lower back, I guess. But I still like saying ‘ass uterus’.”

“Ok.” John blinked again and rubbed at his eyes. “Well, come here.” Stiles crashed into him, squeezing his eyes shut as he nosed uselessly against his father’s skin out of instinct. Derek’s chest loosened somewhat watching them.

Then Stiles mumbled, “You know of anywhere that makes curly fries this time of night?”

They were home right at dawn and asleep in the pack pile before anyone else in the pack even knew Stiles had gone missing. Thank god; Derek didn’t even want to think about the kind of panic an entire pack would enact if they realized their alpha’s mate was kidnapped by the same Argent who killed their last alpha pair. In the blissful quiet of ignorance, Derek fell asleep with his nose pressed against Stiles’s skin and the rapid pitter-pat of their children’s heartbeats in his ears.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, a whole squad of alpha agents and human FBI together caught the scientists calling themselves the Dread Doctors. With the knowledge that they were behind bars, that Kate was gone, and that Theo was imprisoned until he could be tried before a tribunal of elders, Derek felt comfortable staying on territory for at least a week to recover. As much as he wanted to personally interview Theo and grind every bit of information from him, he had another priority: spending as much time as possible with his pregnant mate. New pups were again as safe as they could be, so Derek needed to tend to his own needs.

He was surprised when Alpha Jordan Parrish appeared in the Main House two days later. He’d already put in his paperwork for taking time off pretty much the moment he woke up from the coma-like sleep he and Stiles fell into after the kidnapping event. 

Stiles followed Derek out of their home and into the Main House, too curious to let Derek investigate on his own. Jordan was wearing nice clothes, his FBI badge around his neck, so Derek realized he was there on business. Boyd had already filled Derek in on all the updates from their case, though, so Derek wasn’t sure why he was there in person.

“Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski,” Jordan greeted them. “Can we talk?”

“Sit.” Derek gestured at the inner circle. Stiles sat down with them, eyeing Jordan with interest. Jordan avoided looking at them, shifting his hands against the armrests needlessly like he couldn’t get comfortable.

“First, I’m here to apologize to both of you. I should have been the one to catch Theo, and I… let you both down. The regional council suspected that it could have been one of our own – how else could the kidnapper have found the pups so quickly without access to our alert system? The system is too heavily protected to be hacked, and we would have known if any attempts were made. The only piece we couldn’t figure out was the scent – whoever was kidnapping the pups didn’t leave behind a scent, and alphas have a very strong scent.”

“Why should you have caught Theo? We were all blinded by the fact that it was another alpha leaking the locations,” Derek wondered.

“Yes, but I was tasked with investigating the alphas.” Jordan sighed. “I’m new here – I was assigned to my pack after the disappearings started. Since the elders knew for sure that I wasn’t the leak, I was responsible for investigating the other alphas. I suspected Theo, given his history with his sister and his own pack’s allegations against him, but I couldn’t find the proof I needed.”

“That happens.” Derek shook his head, thinking of his own prolonged frustration with the missing pup cases. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m fine. Fun little trip, but still fine,” Stiles pointed out, smiling a little.

“Theo was the one who fed the idea to kidnap Stiles to the Doctors. They broke their pattern of kidnapping pups on the advice Theo gave them that your biology would lead to a breakthrough in developing something to trigger the change in humans.”

“We kind of figured.” Stiles smiled graciously again because Jordan seemed almost sick with guilt. “Really, we forgive you. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Jordan seemed somewhat relieved by both of their insistence. His expression cooled into disappointment, though, as he addressed Derek.

“We found them.”

Derek held his breath. Jordan hesitated and his face pinched before he slowly shook his head. Derek felt Stiles run a hand along his thigh.

“Where?” Derek asked, his throat tight.

“They were buried nearby.”

“Shit,” Derek let his held breath go as his chest seemed to collapse.

“We’re exhuming them now. I’ll keep you and Boyd updated on our progress, but I don’t think we’ll learn anything new.” Jordan hesitated again before standing. “You both stopped this. Even if we couldn’t save those pups, you saved the next generation. We were getting nowhere with our investigation. We were at a dead end for weeks. But you two took the entire operation down in one night.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Stiles said as he rubbed his hand along Derek’s back, his voice soft even if the comment itself had some bite. “Thanks, Jordan. Thanks for coming here.”

“Again, I’m sorry I didn’t realize all this sooner.”

Derek should have walked Jordan out of the territory, but he felt completely drained after that news. He stood at the doors to the Main House and watched Jordan walk the trail back to the garages. Some pack mates looked at him curiously as he passed, but no one approached him.

Afterward, Derek lied down and didn’t get up for a while. Stiles lied down next to him, trailed his hands along Derek’s arms, and didn’t say anything.

 

* * *

 

Derek didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up. Stiles was sitting next to him with food on a tray and a steaming mug in one hand.

“Tea and lunch,” Stiles announced, urging Derek up into a sitting position. “As a thank you for rescuing me. Us.”

Derek tried to smile, but he still felt like his insides were empty. He took the tray onto his lap. Stiles had made him a BLT with pickles on the side.

Stiles curled his legs up to his chest and settled next to Derek as Derek ate. His scent mingled pleasantly with Derek’s, seeping through his body and massaging aches in his body he didn’t know he had. Stiles looked more relaxed than Derek had witnessed in a long time. He was watching Derek with a thoughtful expression, his scent soothingly content.

“What?” Derek asked, setting his sandwich down.

“You haven’t really gotten after me. For sneaking out.” He tilted his head to the side.

“Why would I scream into the wind?” Derek mused.

“You’re not upset with me?” Stiles wondered.

“Do I sometimes wish that you would follow the rules, especially for your own safety?” Derek laughed to himself. “Of course. But I know who you are. Your untamable nature has brought good changes to the pack – changes that I wouldn’t have even thought about if it weren’t for you. I know who you are, both good and bad, Stiles.”

“You’re really not upset?” Stiles crawled closer, leaning his shoulder up against Derek’s.

“I love you and I’m just so happy you’re safe now,” Derek sighed, leaning back against him. “That’s all I can really say.”

“I love you too,” Stiles mumbled, his scent soft and sweet. After a moment it settled into a mellower note, tinged with bitterness. “But there’s something I need you to understand: I don’t want you to think that I love the human world more than ours.”

Derek leaned back against the bed, watching his mate. It was somewhat of a tense subject between them -- a point of insecurity for Derek, and guilt for Stiles. Worry crept into Stiles’s scent as he searched for his words.

“I know sometimes it seems like that, introducing all these human changes and fighting our old traditions. But I love our pack, I love our life, and I love you. It’s just that… the human world is important to me, too. And I think we can do better, on both sides. I don’t expect to solve thousands of years of hate and fear all by myself… but I want our kids to grow up in a world where it’s safer for them. If their world can be a little less secretive and closed off and fearful, that’s what I want. And I hope that eventually, other lycanthropes will try to form alliances rather than closing off our two worlds more and hating all humans. It does mean change on both sides, including the humans, but I fundamentally believe that we don’t have to hate each other like this. I want to work for that.”

Derek nodded, processing his mate’s earnest plea.  A rush of emotion surged through him and then left. He closed his eyes and waited until he could speak evenly. Stiles looked jittery as he waited for Derek to react.

“I spent weeks going nowhere on that case because I stubbornly believed that we weren’t like humans and that we were above their kinds of crimes. The answer was right in front of me – that it was another alpha instigating the attacks – and I didn’t even think of it as a possibility. But something you should remember, Stiles, is that the elders did – they ordered Parrish to investigate the alphas. I may disagree with the elders sometimes, but I trust them. I wish that you would too.” Derek paused, sliding his hand over Stiles’s because his mate looked troubled by that thought. “And you were also right. Unconsciously, I thought that we were better than the humans, that we were fundamentally different. You always insist that lycanthropes are humans; that means we also have the darkest parts of them. Living in such a small, tight-knit community I forget that there are really terrible lycanthropes out there too. I think of myself as someone experienced in terrible things, but it turns out that I can still be naive when it comes to my own people.”

“Do you think sometimes that I—” Stiles broke off, chewing his bottom lip. “I almost got killed. Again. Do you think I don’t learn from my mistakes?”

Derek squeezed his hand and Stiles squeezed back. His mate looked so vulnerable at that question that Derek chose his words carefully.

“You know a psycho kidnapping you wasn't your fault. As far as sneaking out after what the elders told you... I think that you’re so persistent and determined that sometimes you focus entirely on your goal. And that means that you get things done, but it also means that it takes something huge and even horrible to get you to look up from your end goal and reassess your methods.”

“That was such an ‘alpha advice’ answer.” Stiles shifted next to him, his scent heavier. “It’s me. Just tell me straight.”

“If I were in your shoes I would have made a different decision.” Derek shrugged. “Even if I didn’t understand why, I wouldn’t have disobeyed the elders when they made it clear that this wasn’t something to test. You hate the pack secrets and traditions, but I’ve witnessed how those traditions keep us alive and safe. You’re right to search for the origin and make sure the practice isn’t outdated, especially when it encroaches on your individual rights, but sometimes secrets are kept for a good reason.”

“Yes,” Stiles conceded softly. “I’ve gotten used to pushing back against any rules that bother me, but sometimes they’re there for good reasons. I could have tried to talk with the elders. Instead, I decided to do what I wanted and apologize later. For things that are really important to me, and to the council, I'll try diplomacy first from now on.”

“Wait, you think they were right to order you to stay on territory?” That surprised Derek. Stiles was all about bodily autonomy.

Stiles chewed his lip again, his eyes shining. “Not really. But I kind of understand now.” His scent twisted with syrupy sadness and it coiled over Derek like a fog.

“Why?”

“We have a meeting with them tomorrow.” Stiles lowered his eyes. “I think it’s important that this be a discussion between all of us.”

Stiles didn’t say anything else, just curled himself around Derek like a blanket. They set the tray on the ground and fell asleep holding each other. Derek marveled that, for once, Stiles had a secret and Derek was the one in the dark.


	25. The Alphas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *shows up 7 months late with Starbucks*
> 
> Thanks to everyone who kept reminding me this story existed! The reminders were gentle and sweet. I appreciate you all for liking my writing enough to keep tabs. I tried to go back to these comments and give you a heads up that I posted this belated final chapter, but my apologies if I missed you. 
> 
> I'm working on an original fiction, so follow my (barely used) tumblr for updates on that. Otherwise, you can subscribe on my author's page for more Sterek stuff -- I have a few stories in the works.

Stiles wasalways hungry nowadays. He didn't have anything to compare it to, but he guessed that werewolf cubs were more ravenous than human babies in their early stages. After his first heat he thought he knew the depths of hunger, but this was a new level. He couldn't count how many times he'd woken up in the middle of the night to raid the fridge, or hidden in the back of the kitchens to beg something strange off of Isaac -- and he was only a few months into his pregnancy. At least in terms of hunger, he dreaded the next few months. 

Just that morning Erica had come by to check on him and found him crying over an empty box of Coco Puffs. At first she was convinced he was having a breakdown after being abducted and held hostage by a psychopath, but he eventually convinced her it really was about being out of Coco Puffs. Pregnancy hormones were a _bitch._ Erica had hugged him gently and told him, “you're not allowed to be pregnant with twins ever again, jesus,” as she stroked his hair.

Once he stopped irrationally sobbing over cereal, Erica sent him down to the kitchens to find something else to satisfy his cravings. Even before Erica shooed him out the door, Stiles was already contemplating asking Isaac to make him a banana split (usually he didn't have bananas, but lately Isaac had improved in anticipating his cravings and kept more human food on hand).

As he was walking down the familiar path to the kitchens, he had to confront his own building anxiety. He was meeting with the council today, and he was going to tell them everything. It was the first real secret he'd kept from Derek in all his time knowing the alpha, let alone being mated to him. He was surprised his mate hadn't sniffed it out of him yet -- though, with everything that was going on, Derek had hardly had the time or energy to focus on Stiles. Still, Derek's connection to him was so intense that sometimes he could tell when Stiles was feeling guilty before Stiles even knew it. In those cases, Derek could almost always coerce him into admission.

And this wasn't a good secret to know. Stiles always felt one wrong move away from truly angering the council, and this could be that move. Lycanthropes, the entire lycanthropy civilization, was built on secrecy not only from humans, Stiles had learned, but from each other. When he first came to the territory, Stiles had only seen the world in terms of human and lycanthrope -- but now he saw many more layers of secrecy, most of which were dangerous to know. Still, the council had let him rebel in both his small and large ways over the years without casting him out of the pack. He felt a sort of grandparent-like love from the council members, but he also knew that if he truly became what they perceived as a threat to the pack, they would err on the side of protecting the pack. 

But Derek... Stiles knew Derek's own secret now was that his answer to that existential question of "pack or family" had shifted. Derek had been taught to love and take responsibility for his pack since he could walk, but the bond between the two of them had grown stronger and deeper than even his upbringing could challenge. Sometimes Stiles sensed Derek's own discomfort with how much he loved Stiles. If it was a choice between the two -- an impossible choice for Derek but one Stiles had felt just out of reach when he'd pushed his own agenda too hard -- Derek would side with Stiles. 

No, Stiles wasn't too worried about Derek's reaction in the unlikely occurrence that the council would take serious actions to discipline him. He worried instead that Derek would see his secrecy as a betrayal, wounded that Stiles had not shared his burden sooner. 

Even so, digging for this secret had taken years -- years of studying and experimenting and covertly questioning other packs. If it wasn't so serious, he would have been tempted to break out an overcoat and pipe and gloat a little bit before he explained himself to the council and to his mate. 

If it wasn't so serious... which it was. 

Stiles was grateful when a welcome distraction interrupted his train of thought. 

Malia's head was tilted in submission and her lower lip trembled as she stepped out from behind a tree and caught his attention. Stiles paused, his stomach growling loudly in protest. 

"You're really okay." Malia's sped the distance between them and threw her arms around his shoulders. He felt her nose on his neck, taking deep, reassuring breaths of his scent.  

"Yes." Stiles still hadn't adjusted to people squeezing him like he had returned from the dead. He scented her too, out of habit. "Not a scratch on me. No harm, no foul." 

"It was me, I told him about you. This is why everyone hates me. I'm such an idiot." She vomited the words so quickly Stiles almost didn't catch them. 

"Believe me, they don't hate you. I have it on very good authority that that's not true." Stiles patted her back. "Almost everyone here was new at one point. They were all idiots too. I was actually the biggest idiot when I first came. You know I ran away once?"

"You did?" Malia pulled back enough to check he wasn't lying to her. 

"Yup. Stole a car." Stiles narrowed his eyes at the thoughtful look that flitted through her expression. "I don't recommend it. I was almost assassinated by a mailman." 

"A mailman." Malia furrowed her brow. 

"Long story. Anyway, you're forgiven. And you don't need to worry about Theo pestering you anymore -- he's taken care of." 

"Boyd told me, said you were okay. I wanted to make sure." 

"No one else knows I was gone, right?" 

"Just your friends, I think. Everyone else seems normal." 

"Excellent. Less drama is always better." Also Stiles was convinced that someone would eventually crack one of his ribs if these "you're alive!" hugs continued without end.

"You really don't hate me?" Malia asked him somewhat miserably. Stiles thought briefly that she and Isaac would eventually make an excellent pair. 

"I don't know. I might." Stiles pretended to think about it. "If you let me examine you without any shenanigans at our next appointment, maybe I'll reconsider." 

Malia reluctantly cracked a smile.

"It's only fair if I get to draw your blood every time you draw mine." 

"No hospital in the world works like that, Malia," Stiles rubbed his eyes. "And last time you mangled my arm. Anyway, I'm hungry enough to eat _you_ right now, so if you're feeling better I'd really like to get to the kitchens." 

Malia followed him down to the kitchens, where Isaac took one look at him and sighed into the giant boiling pot he was stirring.

"I don't have churros."

"I didn't ask for churros." Stiles frowned at him petulantly. "I would like a banana split."

"Well," Isaac ran a hand through his hair, looking frazzled. "After your hour-long romantic monologue about ice cream the other day, I got my hands on several tubs. They're in the walk-in freezer. That's the best I can do, though."

"I love you almost as much as Derek right now."

Isaac paled, his eyes glancing between Stiles and Malia.

"Uh, please don't."

"Relax." Stiles hurried over to the walk-in freezer and rummaged among the contents until he uprooted the enormous vat of chocolate ice cream. Nearly sobbing with relief, he sat down on the ground and dug in.

He talked with Malia and Isaac for a while, downing what could have been a quart of ice cream. Malia eventually took the spoon away from him, growing concerned, and offered to walk him back to his cabin. 

"Walk me back to... it's through the middle of the pack territory, Malia. Chill." Stiles couldn't help rolling his eyes at both their worried faces. "I can still bench press, like, a bajillion pounds! Seriously. I'm fine. I can take care of myself. Everything's fine. Neither one of you is allowed to follow me."

"Just." Isaac looked down at his feet, then at the other lycanthropes in the kitchen, then back at Stiles. "Stay safe, okay? For Derek, and for the pack."

"Shit." Stiles's eyes welled up as his pregnancy struck again. "Come over here and hug me. Then never speak of this moment again."

Bewildered, both of them went in for a hug-huddle until Stiles could get a handle on the train wreck that was his emotions and leave the two of them standing there in the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Stiles was glad he decided not to do this with the overcoat and cigar. He was already off his groove with the whole pregnancy thing, but the nerves were really getting to him. 

At first the council had been overjoyed to see him -- scenting him and scent marking him and doing the rib-breaking hugs that he had come to expect. Maria even kissed his stomach, her eyes shining with tears of joy. They were all overjoyed to see him back, even Peter, who rarely showed any kind of affection even to his own nephew.

It made the whole thing harder, they way they were looking at him with genuine love as he stood up with all his files in hand and tried to figure out how to say this without burning all the bridges he'd carefully built with them over the past five years.

"Thank you for listening to me today. And to my mate, who has patiently waited for me to be ready to talk about this. Even longer than he realizes." Stiles swallowed.

"Stiles, is this an Oscar's acceptance speech or are you going to tell us about your research?" Deaton asked him. Then, when Peter gave him a side-long glance, Deaton muttered, "Yeah, I watch the Oscars."

"I guess you guys know me by now." Stiles started again, clearing his throat. "You've listened to me rail against the pack rules with more tolerance than I expected. You've really treated me as you would a family member, even when I first got here and I was pretty wild."

" _Were_ wild?" Peter arched an eyebrow. Maria stifled a chuckle.

"I guess I'm asking you to just listen and use some of that patience that you've gotten so practiced at today." Stiles took another breath and opened his file. He really wished he wasn't pregnant and dealing with swollen clown feet that hurt from standing up when he did this, but it couldn't wait anymore.

"Ever since I entered medical school, I've been pretty obsessed with figuring out what made me possible. What about Derek changed just me, no other humans Derek's come into contact with. Deaton's been supportive of this research since I first brought it up, and he's helped me out a lot along the way. But." Stiles glanced at Derek, then at Deaton, who was watching him with too much pride in his eyes. "I kept some things from you. Some things I found, and some things I wanted to find. I went down a path I didn't know I wasn't supposed to go down."

Peter shifted in his seat and Stiles had to avoid his eyes as he barreled forward.

"At first I was just conducting tests on mine and Derek's pheromones. I knew someone in the medical community was going to insist we be studied, so I figured I might as well be the one to do it. I tested our pheromones together -- from both before and after were were mated -- and tested Derek's pheromones with other people's pheromones to look for partial changes on a molecular level. I found that my change had to do with some kind of threshold that I -- and the scientific community at large -- still don't entirely understand. The important thing is that no one else even comes close to crossing it. I guess that's why we call it 'true mates'."

Now Derek was looking at him with pride. Stiles decided to avoid his eyes too.

"Anyway, that was all pretty expected -- I was just looking for the exact mechanisms that caused the change. While I didn't find that, I found something else. I was reading about alphas and the way that their pheromones react with their betas, the way that they can soothe and communicate with their betas on a molecular level. I was thinking about how Derek always seems to know how his betas are feeling, and how it hurts me and others physically sometimes when he's angry. I know he doesn't mean to do that; it's just the way we're constructed, and the way that alphas communicate with their betas on a cellular level."

Stiles looked down at the open file in his hands. The pages of lab tests. The photographs. What it all meant.

He closed it. Took a deep breath.

"I started conducting tests with his pheromones and our pack members, observing the changes under the microscope. But I noticed over time that the samples I collected from our pack members would change with age, while Derek's remained perfectly stable." Stiles chanced a glance at his mate's confused face. "The beta's pheromones would disintegrate over time, losing their molecular structure if stored for too long. But not Derek's; Derek's was always healthy."

"It was strange and unexpected. I guess science is like that sometimes. I couldn't find anything on it in my medical books except the constant reminder to keep fresh samples and complete any testing within three weeks of collection. There was no reason given for that, it was presented simply as a rule for sampling and testing. I knew someone knew about this, someone had discovered it before me, but the explanation was missing."

"Instead of my medical textbooks, I looked into lycanthropy history. I found... strange gaps. Entire packs with centuries of history that vanished without explanation. Bloodlines of alphas that just ended, without reason. In human textbooks we spend most of our time detailing the demise of various civilizations, but werewolf history is pretty quiet about it."

"Stiles." It was Peter's voice warning him. "This can't be undone."

"I know." Stiles swallowed. He'd been talking to his hands. He looked at them, finally, to see how many knew. As he expected, all the elders were watching him with dread. Derek seemed uneasy at the change in atmosphere, but confused. "And I know why you kept it a secret. I get that. But you have to know that whatever I know, my mate will find out. I'm incapable of keeping this secret."

Deaton's mouth opened, closed. Opened again. Peter looked almost murderous, staring at Stiles like a poisonous snake in their midst.

"The sentence for even knowing this is death." Peter's unnerving, unblinking gaze caught Stiles. "You should know that."

Derek was by his side in an instant.

"Did you just threaten my mate?" Derek growled, his eyes flaring ruby. The air filled with the scent of angry alpha. Stiles flinched at the taste of it.

"I'm not the one threatening," Peter replied quietly, his eyes flaring beta gold in painful defiance of his alpha. Fury was written into the lines of his face. "I'm trying to protect you, Derek."

"Stiles came upon this knowledge through scientific exploration." Deaton shook his head. "That law does not apply. There are precedents for this."

"Derek didn't," Peter pointed out on a snarl. "You want to drag my nephew into this? I thought you loved him."

"No one here is about to pass that kind of judgement on anyone," Deaton's voice was hard as iron, meeting Peter's gaze without flinching. "Are we all in agreement of that?"

"Aye," Maria agreed, far more softly.

"This is bigger than us." Peter shook his head, still angry. "This will go above us. We can't guarantee your safety then."

"It won't be a problem," Deaton reassured them all. "I've dealt with this before. The International Council has set precedents to follow."

"For a Stiles?" Peter asked coolly.

"Yes." Deaton narrowed his eyes at him.

Some of the air settled in the room. Stiles let the breath go that he had been holding, his worst expectations both confirmed and dispelled in the span of a minute. Derek remained standing next to him, his scent bitter with anxiety.

"I can't keep this kind of secret from you." Stiles turned to Derek, repeating himself as an apology. His father had always warned him that his nosing around would get him into serious trouble someday -- this was it.

Derek's eyes darted between the elders and Stiles, not knowing where to land. His every movement seemed jerky, but he took Stiles's hand tightly in his.

"I understand."

Stiles nodded, glad to have his hand as he finished his story.

"I was stuck on this -- wondering what made alpha's so special, how it was connected to the molecular lifespans of beta's and alpha's pheromones. The strange relationship between the two was a mystery, and you all know how well I deal with mystery. Then that dickhead Kate kidnapped me and dragged me into that basement. The Dread Doctors were the kind of scientists out of Nazi history -- experiments on human and werewolves that were intended to kill or maim the subjects. The files I found in that basement were... horrifying, but illuminating." Stiles blinked down at his hands, the pictures burned in his memory. "With the background I had, I was able to make sense of the remaining pieces based on the experiments the Dread Doctors had done on the pups, and on omegas they captured from the human world. Kate was one such creature -- an omega without a pack, without... an alpha. She was insane, her mind atrophied from the isolation. I have no doubt she would have expired within the year. She was kept alive so long by infusions of alpha pheromones -- taken from Theo -- by the Dread Doctors."

"What?" Derek looked at him sharply. "Alpha pheromones?"

"That's what happens to omegas, a major reason they die early on their own." Stiles's tongue felt heavy and dry as he watched Derek's face twist with confusion. "Lycanthropes can't survive without alpha pheromones. We... can't survive without you. Without a replacement alpha, entire packs have been wiped off the planet after their alpha's death."

Derek seemed to take this better than Stiles expected, the anxiety in his scent shifting only minutely to fear. Stiles kept going because if he was going to shake up his mate's world, he figured he better do it all at once.

"They were trying to figure out how to exterminate us, and they were close. They knew murdering alphas caused problems in a pack, which is why they targeted your parents, but they didn't know the extent of that damage. Packs without an alpha will die, without exception, within a year's time. It doesn't happen often anymore because we ship alphas to packs who lose their alpha, and when there aren't enough alphas we can merge packs, but if they took out enough alphas... a whole generation, or more, would be exterminated. A single alpha can only support a limited number of betas -- maybe several hundred -- before everyone in the pack starts to get sick. And based on the limited research I could access, we're nowhere close to synthetically reproducing the complex pheromone mechanisms that alpha's use to support the vitality of their betas." 

"This is the most sacred knowledge to our kind," Deaton said carefully, shaking his head in despair. "If the human governments knew this, it would be easy for them to destroy us and any new generation, or enslave us beyond the restrictive contracts under which we are now bound. It would be an invitation to genocide. This is why we go to extreme lengths to protect it. Only elders have access to this knowledge, and it passes only by word of mouth through elder councils. It can never be written or recorded in any way. Anyone else who finds out about this information... is put to death."

"Even alphas?" Derek asked, his voice shaky. Stiles squeezed his hand.

"No." Deaton shook his head. "In most cases, alphas are sworn in to the council at whatever age they might be. There is... simply no room for mistakes with this kind of information, however, and any breach in confidence will have fatal consequences -- if not for you, then for someone else."

"Understand?" Peter cast a pointed look at Stiles. 

"Most cases," Stiles breathed, his heart constricting. "So what am I?"

"You carry with you not one, but two potential alphas," Maria spoke up softly. "Our future, and the future of another pack."

Stiles closed his eyes at that. _Another pack._

"Not forever. Not even for long." Stiles shrugged helplessly. "What about when it's just me?"

"Yes." Peter looked less angry now, more frustrated. "What about then, Stiles? We are at the mercy of the international council in handing down this sentence. We can't make exceptions for people we like."

"Or people we love," Maria whispered mournfully.

"It's not an exception." Deaton stood and looked his fellow elders in the eye. "Stiles is a researcher now. He can take the oath we took and continue his work on this subject under the supervision of the International Council. We need solutions to this problem more than anything else, and yet we have a paucity of qualified researchers with access to this knowledge. It would be extremely foolish to dispose of such talent, and the International Council recognizes this."

Derek, whose hand was now clammy and stiff in Stiles's, withdrew from the circle. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at nothing. Stiles wanted to go to him, but he let him breathe alone. The whole situation felt too big for this old room, too big for any of them as single lycanthropes. But for Derek, Stiles knew the weight of this new responsibility was crushing.

"That's why you forbade Stiles from leaving the territory." 

"All children are a gift, but alpha children..." Maria answered him softly. "We cannot take chances with them in such a vulnerable state. That means restricting Stiles's journeys to the human world. The pack is the safest place for them." 

Derek shook his head.

"Peter is descended from an alpha bloodline and he's a beta. There's no guarantee our children will be alphas."

"So." Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat, dreading this moment. "They are."

Everyone looked at him at once. Derek's shock was the heaviest to bear.

"Remember that fun little ritual we did?" Stiles shrugged, his voice higher than normal. "Ancient lycanthropes used the scent trance to tune into their bodies and determine the orientation of their children. It doesn't help much with actual conception, but you can immediately sense the orientation in the event that conception occurs. Unlike in human babies, lycanthrope fetuses' orientations are determined in their earliest stages."

"Stiles, you sound like Deaton," Derek leaned over a chair, his hands gripping the backrest and turning white. "What are you saying?"

"They're alphas. Both of them," Stiles hugged himself, one hand going instinctively to his stomach. "I'm sure." 

"There are tests we can perform... later, when the risk associated is minimal." Deaton watched Stiles with wide eyes. "To confirm. Old rituals are not reliable."

Stiles's certainty seemed to be enough for Derek. He looked like he didn't know what to feel. His mouth was set in a thin line, and his expression fought through a different emotion every other second -- fear, joy, anxiety, acceptance, repeat -- before he turned away from all of them.

Stiles had kept this from him for more months now. He knew what Derek was thinking.

"Is there anything you need from me, council?"

Derek, straight-backed Derek who always observed the proper manners when addressing his elders, didn't even look at them.

A moment of silence passed.

"And you, Stiles?" He wouldn't look at Stiles, either. Stiles's heart twisted.

"No," Stiles replied. He'd shaken up his mate's life enough for one day. "That's everything I know."

Derek left without another word.

 

* * *

 

Stiles excused himself from the council and his third (jesus, had it gotten that high?) near brush with death, observing the proper customs almost as an apology. He didn't blame them, but he also didn't blame himself. The whole situation just... sucked.

He let Derek be for as long as he could manage. He sat down with Scott and played cards, periodically weeping into his shoulder and blaming it on his pregnancy hormones. Erica eventually found them, with Boyd following close behind, and turned it into a raucous game of poker that Stiles couldn't handle. He excused himself from this group too, retreating into his home to eat traditional lycanthrope food (bitter roots and all), soak his bloated feet, and binge watch a lycanthrope reality show about werewolves of mating age from two packs living in one big house.

Derek came home later that night. Stiles could smell lake water on him, but he was dry. Derek sat down by the fire in their living room and stared into it quietly. Stiles kept his distance for a few minutes before he sat down on the floor in front of him.

"Can you forgive me?" Stiles wondered.

Derek sighed through his nose and slid his eyes over to him. A tired smile tugged at his lips.

"You could kill me and I would still forgive you."

"I kind of wrecked your world and almost got us both killed by the council," Stiles admitted. It felt terrible to say it out loud.

"It's just another Saturday," Derek joked weakly.

"I'm sorry I kept it from you. All of it. It was... I feel like..."

"I know." Derek shook his head, but the movement was too hard. "I understand it. I've told so many pups to keep secrets from their families, I would be a hypocrite to--"

"You can be angry with me." Stiles felt like maybe Derek needed permission to feel what he needed to feel. His overprotective mate usually found it hard to acknowledge negative feelings toward him, and Stiles was currently a pile of very enticing pregnancy pheromones.

"Okay," Derek rubbed a hand over his face slowly, seeming to measure his words. "I'm a little angry you didn't tell me the real reason you wanted to perform that ritual. You've known what they were for as long as we've had them. I've sat up nights wondering."

"I felt like I needed to put all the pieces together before I showed my hand."

"... Showed your hand? You really don't know where my loyalties fall?" Derek looked away from him, stricken. "After all this time?"

"I trust you," Stiles murmured, trying to soothe. "But you have a lot of loyalties, Derek. The first thing you told me was that you put the pack first, before anything." 

"One of them will need to leave," Derek sighed, pain evident. "What happened with Cora scares the hell out of you. And now you know you don't have standing to oppose it. That's what you were always afraid of."

"That, and being murdered by the council," Stiles tried his own weak joke.

"Neither of us were ever in any real danger. You knew that." Derek narrowed his eyes at him.

Stiles's insides were ice. He took his own advice and let himself admit it to his mate.

"You know how hard I fought to get my dad on territory. I don't want my children to be... I don't want to go through the same thing with them that I went through myself. I want to stay together, if it's what they want."

"But it's not a choice," Derek said gently. "Certainly not one that's yours to make. We need to raise them with the right expectations -- that one of them will move on to another pack. They will keep that pack alive, and that's an amazing gift to be able to give."

"I can't," Stiles admitted, tears welling up. "I'm no good at goodbyes. I'm more selfish than you."

Derek gestured for him and Stiles climbed up onto the chair. They had squished together on this chair a million times, usually just reveling in each other's presence after Derek had been gone for his job. This time felt different, Stiles's sadness choking him as he buried his nose into his mate's neck.

"Humans do this all the time with their children. I did it with Cora. We can both do it again. It's not forever -- it may not even be far away. Cora's within driving distance."

"We're not humans," Stiles whispered into his skin. "Once you're pack, you're always pack."

"Now you don't sound like yourself," Derek kissed his ear and ran a gentle hand over his head. "This isn't the worst news we could have gotten today."

"I just had this image in my head, with my dad, Melissa, my kids, and you -- all together."

"And we will be." Derek kissed his ear again, lingering for a minute. "You'll have that."

"Until one of them gets old enough to leave. And they're _twins_ , Derek. How will they take this?"

"With your genetics, they'll probably steal a car and run away instead of doing what the council tells them to do." Derek chuckled. Stiles laughed despite himself, almost a hysterical sound as true worry spiked through him.

"Am I ever going to live that down?" Stiles wondered. 

"Leaving is just another part of life. Goodbyes are just a part of life," Derek whispered to him, sounding distant. Stiles closed his eyes, just feeling Derek's scent all around him. It felt right, the way it always did, and it calmed the storm inside of him. "None of us can escape them."

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

"Do you think throwing up will impress them?" Stiles asked Boyd, putting his head between his knees in a desperate attempt to keep his stomach from revolting against him. 

"No," Boyd answered, verbose as always.

Stiles didn't wear ceremonial robes. He wore lab coats and bathrobes, almost exclusively. This particular ceremonial robe was a little too short. It was showing off his lucky bulldog socks, which made him even more nervous because he needed to be believable. Reputable. Impressive. But he'd spent a lot of time cultivating the opposite reputation in the lycanthrope community.

His history of pissing everyone off was part of the reason why his fellow scientists chose him for this particular unpleasant duty of informing the council they needed to change their thousand-year-old laws. That, and his real-life testimony to the benefits of finding your true mate, which was the crux of his pitch.

The International Council met in Shanghai, China this time, which Stiles had loudly celebrated for all the opportunities to eat Chinese food. His "celebration" was mostly a farce for his fellow packmates, however -- the council was sure to disapprove of the results of his secret research, and Stiles was dreading it.

"Well, both of our children think Erica's hair is a chew toy, but otherwise everything's going well at home," Derek reported to them as he returned from the bathroom, sliding his phone into a pocket in his own ceremonial robes. Alphas had the coolest ceremonial robes, all bright red stitching and black accents. It totally worked with Derek's coloring (as everything did, let's be real), but Stiles was too nervous to fully appreciate that right then. "Scott has been mostly useless from what I hear, but Isaac is keeping the rascals entertained."

"Did they wish me luck?" Stiles asked, his heart leaping at just the thought of his babies.

"They're six months old." Derek squinted at him.

"Sometimes they gurgle in a certain way."

"Erica mentioned that one of them pooped on Isaac during a diaper change. Maybe they did that for you," Derek conceded finally. Then he took in his mate's expression of real distress and kneeled in front of Stiles, rubbing his shoulders. "You can do this. This is why they wanted you to do this research. After that last meeting with them, this should be a walk in the park."

"They were never going to..." Stiles glanced at Boyd, " _reprimand_ us," he answered quietly. Derek was referring to the emergency sentencing meetings with the International Council more than a year ago. They had unanimously agreed to prematurely induct Derek into the Elder Council, but Stiles's sentencing had been more of a mixed bag. Two elders even voted to sentence him to death, but luckily a safe majority nullified that sentencing, allowing Stiles to continue his research on alpha pheromones, true mates, and that pesky little problem of potential mass genocide. With their official permission, he gained access to a wealth of previous research and a network of researchers around the globe. Apparently the council had made this issue a top priority for a while, as Stiles found research dating back hundreds of years.

"You're just doing what you always do -- giving your opinion." Derek smiled. More of a smirk, really. "This should be easy for you."

"We don't know the real-life implications of loosening our protections against the human world." Stiles's stomach did another flip. "I could be killing thousands -- maybe tens of thousands, _fuck_ me -- of lycanthropes by recommending that we do just that."

"We were already dying." Boyd shook his head, breaking his silence again. "Derek and I deal with that daily, and both of us think your ideas will make us stronger by growing our numbers and reducing human fear. We're right here to support you. And our council signed a letter of support. Everyone in the pack heard your pitch and agreed with you, and they're the most at risk under this new system you're proposing." 

"He's right," Derek reminded him. "And there will be pilots, test runs. It will all be voluntary for the packs that choose to participate. We can always go back to doing what we've always done -- hiding, sequestered away from humans. But the possibilities that come from opening up to the human world, under the controlled circumstances we've outlined... they're worth the risk."

"I still don't know how likely it will be that true mates will increase in number." Stiles shrugged helplessly. "I could be wrong."

"Or you could be right -- which you usually are -- and mingling with humans like this could swell the population of true mates by tenfold. Which will then grow our population exponentially, given the fertility of true mates." Derek shook Stiles's shoulders a little. "Where's all your confidence in that stigma-busting research? Where's your gusto about intermarrying and working together with humans? Stop doubting yourself. They're going to hammer you in there -- you need to believe in this if you're going to sell it."

"Okay." Stiles leaned in to scent his mate deeply. It settled him in every fiber of his being, as it always did. "Confidence. Alright. Yeah. Bad bitch Stiles."

"Just channel your inner Erica." Boyd smiled at him, a rare sight.

"Please don't call yourself 'bad bitch Stiles' in front of our children." Derek looked pained. "You know they'll repeat that during a council meeting, and then Deaton will make us sit through a parenting class again."

"They're probably going to say no anyway, and it will never even go to a full committee" Stiles continued babbling over Derek's admonishment, his nerves spiking as he thought of all those disapproving, wrinkled lycanthropes watching him with judging eyes.

"Probably," Derek agreed. "Then next time we come back with even more evidence. And more signatures from fellow researchers. And more packs agreeing to be test sites. And we keep at it until they say yes. You're excellent at annoying them until they cave, Stiles. This is no different from any of your other appearances at this council."

Two terrifying-looking werewolves exited the elaborate doors down the hall and Stiles forgot all about his "bad bitch" philosophy as his stomach swooped again. As the lycanthropes encroached upon them, however, Derek took his hand.

"I believe in you," he whispered to him. "Always have. Go kick some ass."


End file.
